


The Gentleman of Greenstoke

by Naeryda



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 19th Century, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, AsaKiku - Freeform, England (Country), F/M, Master & Servant, Military Ranks, Nobility, Nyotalia, PruHun, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-05-14 09:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 48,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5738116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naeryda/pseuds/Naeryda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(I changed the title :D) England 1850: Yao Wang is worried about his Goddaughter’s – Sakura – future and wants her to marry well. Upon receiving an invitation from his friend Alfred Jones, Mr Wang visits England. Although the Master of the house – Arthur Kirkland – has no knowledge of said visitation. Whilst the Englishman promises to teach Sakura about Victorian customs, his friend General Gilbert Beilschmidt encounters Elizabeta Héderváry the Hungarian cook in the Kirkland household, who disapproves the presence of the Prussian greatly.</p><p>Pairings: Prussia/Hungary ; England/Fem!Japan</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to write this in a more formal way *emphasising the ‘I tried’* I have no idea if this is good or not :’D. And a little warning ahead: English is not my first language, so sorry if there are any mistakes or misunderstandings :S.
> 
> A little guide (I really want to avoid misunderstandings or confusions :’D; sorry about that) :  
> \- Arthur is a member of the Landed Gentry and he earns an Estate which is called “Greenstoke” in Hertfordshire (of course Greenstoke is a fictional name and does not exist :’D). His mother has a noble background, but Arthur himself has not inherited a title (because his father was not noble) but some will address Iggy as “Sir” (out of respect of course)  
> \- Sakura’s mother was the sister of Yao Wang and since her parents died, she stays with her uncle and Grandfather  
> \- Alfred and Marguerite are Arthur’s cousins; Arthur’s mother had married someone of the gentry, whereas Alfred’s mother has married a wealthy man without title. That’s why Iggy has a title and Alfred not.  
> \- Yao and Alfred are tradesmen (those were not accepted among some upper-class family, because working for your living was negative *yes, rich people logic :’D* except for those who were involved in politics army and/or were clergy members.)  
> \- Normally one would not invite people who did not know the owner of the house to stay with them on the estate for weeks, but knowing Alfred, he wants to help his friend Yao and he will make Arthur understand :’D  
> \- Gilbert is a high ranked army member (along with his little brother who also accompanies Gilbert) and is friends with Iggy ~
> 
> (I am sorry for the title of the story :'D I am so uncreative :'D my other story is 'One punk man' so I was really thinking about called this piece "One Gentle man" :'D)

“What is the meaning of this?” Arthur exclaimed loudly as he was reading the letter he had just received from his cousin. At the moment the Englishman resided in London due to some business matters he had to attend to. Despite his rather calm nature, his cousin Alfred succeeded in vexing the poor British man. “To invite foreign people in my home to reside there,” the Brit hissed. It was indeed an uncommon circumstance to invite strange persons on a Gentleman’s estate without notifying him. Alfred, who had gained his fortune by trading, is an enthusiastic character and the complete opposite of Arthur. The latter one continued his reading with narrowed eyes. “Dear Cousin, I know you will not be pleased by this letter. Years ago I was travelling to China and made the acquaintance of Yao Wang and his goddaughter Sakura Honda. They took it upon themselves to offer me a stay for a fortnight. Mr. Wang is involved with trading and a very agreeable man. He told me of his intention of settling down in England to expand his trading,” Arthur breathed slowly and was astonished by this new occurrence. “I dare say I hope that he will not accomplish his plans on my estate.” The British Gentleman certainly had not expected such a letter when he entered his rented house in London. It had been seven days since he had come to the big city. “I need to return as quickly as I can.” Looking at the date of the letter, he decided to leave London within the next two days.

The streets of London were filled with crowds. Eligible gentlemen were strolling through the town while fortunate Ladies were purchasing new clothes for the upcoming season. They were of course accompanied by chaperons or members of their families. Arthur, observing the scenery from next to his carriage, waited for his coachman. Two days had gone by since the letter had arrived and the Brit was determined to arrive as fast as possible in his home. He felt uneasy about the unfamiliar people living in his mansion. His nervousness increased by seconds as he remembered Alfred’s words, _‘Years ago I was travelling to China and made the acquaintance of Yao Wang and his goddaughter Sakura Honda. They took it upon themselves to offer me a stay for a fortnight_. “Indeed he had told me about it a few months ago, but he did not mention any names,” Arthur concluded quietly, “If they had taken care of him without refusal, then they must be kind.” It was not a daily gesture to tend to foreign visitors.

“I beg your pardon, sir. I am sorry for the waiting.”

At the sound of a new voice, Arthur ceased his thinking and diverted his attention towards the carriage-driver. “Don’t trouble yourself.”

Minutes passed before the coach left the streets of London. The journey would take hours. “I surely do not condone his spontaneous action in inventing them on my propriety without telling me instantly,” the British announced to himself, a frown adorned his visage. This was a trait the Brit man was well-known for amongst his acquaintances. He often spoke about his inner thoughts loudly. Some would describe him as a quiet and agreeable fellow; others considered Arthur to be very argumentative. The latter characteristic was always present when he was in the company of his cousin Alfred or the Baronet Francis Bonnefoy. “Oh in God heaven’s, this frog will laugh at me. He will be jesting about it all day.”

While the Brit was reflecting and watching the landscape the carriage was passing, Alfred was enjoying himself. He was dining with his guests in his cousin’s mansion. Food was one of the enjoyments he consumed with passion.

“I must say Sir, your home is very comfortable,” Alfred’s male guest commented. “I did not know this mansion was in your possession.”

“I thank you, but it’s not my home, but my cousin’s,” Alfred admitted, “He will be very upset with me. I sent him a letter a few days ago. But worry not, you are welcome here.”

Upon hearing this declaration the young female, who sat on opposite side of the table looked up. “Pray, excuse me. I assumed that it was your lovely home. I hope the master of the mansion is not too vexed about our stay,” She spoke quietly and Alfred’s twin sister, Margarete gulped loudly. It was a sign of inner unrest. She was aware of his cousin’s reaction but did not speak about it. Margarete was pleased to be in the company of these guests, having befriended Sakura very quickly.

“Well I did not inform him about your arrival the day you arrived, Miss Sakura.”

“Oh,” Sakura murmured as the diverted her eyes towards her food. She was a silent woman but took pleasures in many activities such as reading, walking and drawing. Despite her shy nature, she enjoyed being with her relatives and make new acquaintances. Nevertheless Sakura felt that the Landlord will not be amused by their presence. Although Alfred had ensured that their stay would be welcomed, Sakura intended to avoid the master of the mansion as often as possible. She would not want him to feel provoked in any kind.

 

Unbeknownst to them, the owner of the estate was in near distance. Before he could arrive, Arthur decided to let the horse of the carriage rest a bit. The fresh air hit his face as he climbed out of the carriage. Unfortunately, the Brit did not realise how slippery the ground was. Within seconds the poor man lay in the muddy puddle which stained his clothes completely. “Blimey!”

Arthur’s rage was justified. He would soon meet his ‘guests’; he wanted to make the best first impression.

“Sir! Are you alright?” the carriage-driver rushed to his side and prevented himself from slipping too.

“Yes… Well my clothes are dirty,” Arthur muttered. His attire as well as his hair and part of his face were adorned with mud. He had no fresh clothes in his suitcase. “I will enter my home through the backdoor. Otherwise they will see me in this improper attire.” The decision had been made. The owner of the mansion would ‘officially’ arrive at home after he had cleaned himself. “I understand Sir.”

 

Meanwhile, Sakura had left the dinner room and walked to the backdoor of the house. The garden was decorated with beautiful flowers and a fountain. Since she had arrived in the mansion, she wanted to explore it. As Margarete had explained to her, it was a good spot to rest. The calm atmosphere promised a relaxing afternoon. As she opened the door, she saw a man walking angrily towards her. He was wearing a white shirt which was stained. His complete attire was dirty. Although these were not the first features which caught her eyes. It were his green eyes which fascinated her. Even if his look was adorned with a scowl, Sakura was mesmerised by his facial features. As he came nearer, she heard him muttering curses. This led her to believe that the man was a footman and under the service of his master. He was walking alone and did not perceive his observer until he stopped in front of her.

 

Arthur had not expected to be seen in the back-entrance of the manor. Especially not by a beautiful foreign woman who observed his figure with her brown eyes. It surprised him that she was not inside the house. She was one of the visitors and Arthur’s nervousness grew by the second. His first impression was an important factor; therefore he would present himself from his best side if he was in the company a beautiful woman.

“Oh,” Arthur whispered. For him, this occurrence was very inconvenient and her blushing cheeks did not lessen the discomforting situation. Nevertheless he was not prepared for her answer.

“I beg your pardon. I did not want to surprise you,” she said softly, “Mr Jones is in the dining room. I hope I did not disturb you in any kind.”

“Disturb?”

“I thought you were working in the gardens which I wanted to visit.”

At that moment, the Brit was realising his position. ‘She thinks I am a servant of the house,’ he thought shockingly. His dirty clothing was not presenting him as a gentleman.

“N-No, you did not di-“

“Iggy!”

At the sounds of Alfred’s voice, the pair turned its attention towards the American. Sakura did not comprehend her actions until Alfred approached the two. “I never thought you will return today,” his eyes observed Arthur’s form. “But good God in heaven, what has happened to you?”

“An accident.”

The English man’s eyes wandered back to the Asian woman who stared at the ground.

“Mr Kirkland,” Yao declared happily, ignoring Arthur’s apparel. “I am glad to make your acquaintance. I thank you very much for your kindness.”

This meeting presented an odd situation in which the four persons were in; Sakura was ashamed of her behaviour towards the master of the house. She had thought him to be a servant and her objective of not burdening the Brit was unaccomplished. Whereas she thought that he disliked her, Arthur could not deny that she was a mysterious and wonderful creature. The thoughts of him being a gardener, made him laugh. Acquainting her would be a wonderful experience.

* * *

[another tiny A/N: I hope it is okay so far :O, Hungary will make her short appearance next chapter, but after that, she and Prussia will get more screening time :D. This Chapter is more of an introduction :'D]


	2. 2

Sakura observed the beautiful flowers in the garden. The Japanese was trying to calm her nerves after the strange meeting which had taken place an hour ago. The young woman had met the official master of the mansion and was not proud of the result of that encounter. The cause for such thinking was her behaviour towards the involved persons (mostly Mr Kirkland). “He will think very little of me,” she whispered, watching the bushes swinging with the winds movement. Nature was a true cure for her nerves, but Sakura knew that she needed to return inside in order to be properly introduced to the Landlord by a third party.

 

The looking glass was reflecting Arthur’s scowling visage. “Why in God’s name did you wait so long before informing me of this?”

Alfred cleared his throat, “Pardon me, but I forgot.” He rubbed his neck.

“How can you forget such important information?”

As the English Gentlemen watched his cousin’s nervous stance, he inquired an immediate explanation.

“Well, you see,” The American’s eyes focused on the door, “I was dishonest about the duration of their stay.” He waited for any reaction of his cousin, but decided to continue. “They have no other choice but stay a little longer.”

“For what cause? Because of the trading company, Mr Wang plans to establish?”

“Yes and he has expressed the wish to give his niece a chance for a new live.”

“His niece? You mean to tell me that Miss Honda is not only his goddaughter but his relative? What does he expect her to do here?”

“She is orphaned and he has great hopes for her,” he exclaimed, although his face held a hint of sadness. He and his sister had lost their mother in a very early age, which forced their father in a restless situation. The older man started gambling, leaving nothing of the heritage, their mother had left for them. Alfred had always been told that she was a gentleman’s daughter. After all, the elegant woman was Arthur’s aunt and raised them to behave as agreeable as a man should. The older Mr Jones was a tradesman, but fell into depression after his wife was gone. To say that he and his father had an amiable relationship was an understatement. After Alfred’s father died years ago, he had inherited the bankrupted trading company. Due to his ambitious spirit and his cousin’s connection, the company had start anew in a better light. That was the reason why the American had visited China, to make new connections and treaties to expand the company’s influence.

“Oh,” The Englishman murmured, “I was not aware of her fate.” He had not realised that she had lost her parents. Arthur had been certain that she was only travelling with her Godfather. “So, Mr Yang wants her to have a fulfilled future in England. But as a woman, that is only achievable if she marries someone with a good fortune.”

“And that, dear cousin, is the reason why we are going to help. We will teach her the formalities of attending balls and show her the English culture,” Alfred expressed, “Although it will also be important to teach her of American culture as well.”

“Oh how charming. I don’t believe Miss Honda will be interested in American culture,” Arthur mocked, feeling unnerved by this notion. Of course this expression was uttered to challenge his cousin. The two had always have discussions on what country – USA or United Kingdom – was the best.

“Maybe I will take it to heart to marry her. Our acquaintance is agreeable and I have a good fortune,” Alfred jested but did not realise that his cousin’s facial expressions had changed. Before the latter could reveal his disapproval of Alfred’s declaration, a knock on the door interrupted them.

“Sir, tea will be served in an instant.”

Alfred opened the door, revealing the servant who waited patiently for them.

“Age before beauty,” the American suggested to Arthur; motioning him to leave the chamber. “If that is your indication of American culture, than Miss Honda will certainly decline your offer of marriage.”

Alfred smiled, “One does not know if one does not ask her.”

 

Sakura was already seated in the drawing room next to Marguerite as the Gentlemen entered. Her legs pushed her up and she curtsied instantly. The woman was aware of some of the English etiquette and knew how to behave in front of members of the Gentry. Although the American’s occupation was not considered aristocratic, she held great respect for him and decided to treat him just like she would in the presence of any other member of Royalty.

“Oh no need to act so formally around me, Miss Honda,” Alfred affirmed, before taking her hand to place a kiss on her gloved hand, “but if you insist, I will act as a gentleman.”

Sakura, being surprised of this indication, blushed but smiled nonetheless. “There is no need Sir, you have behaved like a gentleman since we met.”

Arthur was tapping his foot against the floor. During their conversation, they had not given him any attention and witnessing Alfred behaving like this was unnerving him greatly. If it had not been for the presence of their guests, he would have expressed an inappropriate comment. Mr Wang observed them too, but his visage showed no disapproval thought.

“Oh before I forget.” Alfred took Sakura’s hand and walked towards his cousin. “I officially introduce you to the master of the house, Mr Arthur Kirkland.” He then introduced Arthur to Sakura.

“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Honda.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr Kirkland,” Sakura spoke softly, while he held her hand and gazed into her eyes. The embarrassing occurrence from hours ago was still in the back of her head. The present persons classified her as a composed female while on the inside the woman’s emotions expressed a great uncertainty.

As the party was served with tea and a great atmosphere, Arthur tried to strike a conversation with Sakura. He seated himself next to her and began with questions considering her interest in England. As she explained herself that her uncle had always expressed his wish of visiting the country and that she was excited when she arrived at the English docks. While the Japanese talked with a calm voice and a joyful glint in her eyes, Arthur could not deny that her incredible sweet but quiet nature attracted him in a certain way. Sakura spoke about the English books she had read, the artists she admired, as well as her love for painting itself.

She reasoned not to talk about her ability to fight with a katana. It was uncommon for a woman in Europe to be able to battle, but Sakura’s father had taught her those technics. He had been a low-ranked Samurai and wanted his daughter to achieve those skills. It was the only remaining memory of him.

Arthur was charmed by all her stories (and manner to present herself). “What a fascinating Lady you are, Miss Honda.”

Her cheeks coloured, “O-oh, but Mr Kirkland, I am no Lady, only a simple girl.” Mr Wang eyes his niece with a proud smile while he was exchange words with Alfred.

 

Hours passed and Arthur decided to present her the idea of teaching her the formalities and etiquette in English society in order to attend balls (except for the London Season). As he and Alfred had already planned to carry that plan out. Yao Wang was not objecting the idea (being the one who had suggested it to his new friends). The only one who was not aware of this idea was Sakura herself and upon hearing the suggestion, she did not know what to think of it.

“I-I beg your pardon,” she answered, her eyes widened while her uncle’s smile grew. He had hoped that his American friend would help him after he had confided his worries for his niece to Alfred. “Yes, my dear, it would be delightful to stay here longer and grow familiar with the English customs,” Mr Yang smiled, taking Sakura’s hands. “Would it not?”

“Of course, my sister would like to assist,” Alfred stated, watching his twin sister who in return felt sorry for Sakura. All eyes were on the Japanese and to not express any signs of impoliteness, she agreed. Her eyes met Arthur’s and the unsettled feeling of not fulfilling his expectations, took control over her body. She thought that the two had been joyful engaged in the conversation and had started a great friendship; but this new occasion could break that bound. At first she was aware of her unladylike behaviour at the beginning of their meeting and supported the idea of not burdening the English gentleman. But now she would depend on him to achieve the goal of dressing and behaving like a Lady with the purpose of finding a rich husband. She knew that her Godfather could not support her if she did not entertain the idea of matrimony.

Arthur on the other hand was excited about the idea of teaching her some European and English costumes, such as dancing. For him, she already had the elegance, speech and look of an accomplished woman but he reminded himself of the information Alfred had given him. Her uncle wanted her to be as agreeable as possible – even though for Arthur, she had already fulfilled those expectations – in order to increase her chances of a fortunate marriage. “But we will begin with the teaching in a few days. I assure you that you can rest as much as you wish to,” Arthur acknowledged, “I –“

The interruption was precipitated due to the knocking on the door. It was the servant who once again expressed an apology for disrupting the party. “I do apologise, Sir, but the cook has questions considering your choice of food.”

“How about she makes something great for supper?” Alfred suggested, excited to wait for dinnertime. “Oh, Miss Honda you actually never met her before, our cook.”

“No, I did not.”

Alfred, without inquiring further, took her by the hand and led her by the kitchen door. “I will introduce you to all members of the house stuff and I am certain the cook will be a delightful companion and friend.” Normally guests would not be interested in such activities, but Sakura had expressed that wish to Alfred on her first day in Hertfordshire. He knocked on the door, before shouting the cook’s name. “Elizabeta?“

She answered the door immediately, her long brown hair in a bun, her green eyes focusing on the American before she averted her gaze towards the petite woman next to him. “This is Miss Honda; Miss Honda, this is Elizabeta Héderváry. She started her occupation months a few ago.”

Sakura now knew why he wanted her to meet Elizabeta. The woman expressed a strong, beautiful and gentle aura; her green eyes watching her with a friendly gaze. “Miss Honda,” she said calmly as she curtsied. “O-Oh no, please there is not need to curtsy for me,” Sakura mentioned, “It is nice to meet you.”

Elizabeta was considered an ‘upper’ servant; her cooking skills were highly appreciated in the Kirkland household (comparing it to a certain English cooking skills, hers were considered a gift from God). Despite her young age of 20, her ability in the kitchen proved to wrong everyone who would claim that young and inexperienced females could not cook well. She was very proud of her dishes. After seeing Sakura for the first time, she understood why Alfred introduced her to the Japanese. The girl had a sweet nature, but shy and quiet. Although she was in the presence of the upper class men, Elizabeta knew that Sakura would be a very good friend. After spending some days in the manor, the Japanese had always thought of who could have prepared her dishes; for her the meals were splendid.

“I must express a compliment for your cooking skill, Miss Héderváry.”

Elizabeta smiled, “I am very happy that you appreciate my food, Miss Honda.”

After meeting one of the main house maids, Sakura was introduced to several other members of the house stuff.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:I try to make the historical facts as accurate as possible (although the mansion Greenstoke is of course pure fiction :’D). I love to write misunderstandings (especially with this pairing) xD. Thank you for kudos :D]


	3. 3

Almost a week had passed since the foreign visitors had met the official master of the Kirkland mansion. During the few days, Sakura had learned more about the tall building, its owner and family. She had to admit that despite the rather awkward beginning of their acquaintanceship, she and Arthur had developed a delightful friendship. Not only had she grown accustomed to the new environment, but had spent time with the workers at the mansion. She and Miss Elizabeta Héderváry had conducted more than one conversation and discussed several topics. Both enjoyed their spent time together and Sakura could fairly express that the Hungarian cook was indeed a very good companion.

A few hours ago, the party had decided to visit the town which was nearest by the mansion.

“It is beautiful,” Sakura whispered, holding the silk red ribbons in her hand. Although it was clear that Sakura should purchase the demanding attire – which for English standards was a must have – she was rather more interested in the classical buildings and cultural customs. Her uncle had promised to buy the required clothing as they had sat in the carriage. The older man had been overjoyed as Mr Kirkland had made the proposition to go to town. After they had arrived, Marguerite had suggested taking Sakura to the seamstress. It was a kind older woman who had then taken care of Sakura’s measurements and proposed her different genres of English dresses for balls and quotidian purposes. From empire dresses to low cut ball gowns.

“You prefer that colour?”

The black-haired Japanese looked at Marguerite upon hearing her soft voice. “Yes,” she answered honestly; she had always had a preference for warm colours, especially red. The two women were not alone in the shop, hearing laughter and gossiping conversations in every corner of the room. The customers were a melange of young fair women and older elegant Ladies. Apparently they were present due to preparations for balls and the next London season or to fulfil their social hobby in spending their leisure time with their friends. Lots of different looks were thrown at them: curious, questioning and conceiting eyes were watching them. It was an uncommon feeling which took over Sakura, but she tried to hold up her smiling face. As she walked to the gowns and other accessories, she overheard a conversation which involved a certain English gentleman.

“Have you heard, Mr Beilschmidt is hosting a ball in three weeks.”

“Oh what wonderful news, do you happen to know who will attend?”

“I am not quite sure, but I am certain that Mr Kirkland is going with his two cousins.”

Sakura moved her head but pretended to look at the clothes in front of her. She had not been informed of any ball – and she was told that she would certainly attend social assemblies – and felt her hands sweat as she recalled the conversation she had with Arthur almost a week ago. He had made the suggestion of teaching her English etiquette in order to attend balls – of course in favour of her uncle who certainly enjoyed that plan – and to introduce her to his friends. For her, three weeks were a short time.

“He is most agreeable and extremely gallant. I still cannot comprehend why he is not courting anyone. Every agreeable Lady is pursuing him. Have you heard that Miss Bonnefoy tried to catch his interest?”

In all honesty, Sakura agreed with that statement. For such a handsome and eligible man, he certainly had to be engaged or courting someone. Her ears perked up again as the two Ladies were continuing their talk.

“But apparently, Mr Kirkland entertains foreign visitors at the moment. Weeks ago his cousin, Mr Jones, had the nerve to invite a foreign tradesman and his daughter to the mansion without informing Mr Kirkland. I am surprised he is keeping such company at all.”

Sakura’s body stilled. Now they were talking about her and stating wrong facts such as her being her uncle’s daughter. In addition to that the woman made the assumption of her and Mr Wang being an unpleasant company.

The two talking English women sniggered, mocking the situation. “I can’t believe that he could have agreed on this. My family has known him for decades and never before has Mr Kirkland been in such a situation. He must have been pressed to accept and offered them a lodging.”

“That only proofs what a good character he has; offering them a stay even though he did not want to. These guests should be grateful for not being thrown out.”

Within a second, Sakura felt extremely uncertain about herself; the circumstance and her being in a shop filled with gossiping Ladies were overwhelming. Looking for Marguerite and her uncle, she quickly made the request of exiting the shop to have some fresh air.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

“No, the room was a little stuffy,” Sakura lied. She disliked lying to Marguerite, who had been nice to her since their first meeting. The conversation she had overheard forced itself in her mind. She mused if it was true; if Mr Kirkland had only been civil to them for the sake of politeness. Nevertheless her face never showed any sign of uncertainty. “Do you like to see the cultural aspects this town has to offer?”

Sakura need not to be told twice; she and Yao agreed immediately. After seeing several buildings, the Japanese and her companion decided to sit on a bench which was in front of the parish hall, adorned with wonderful antique architectonic elements. A perfect grand garden completed the breath-taking view. Without wasting a second, Sakura took out her sketching book, trying to catch the perfect entourage on paper.

Although Marguerite was not thinking about Sakura’s change in mood, Mr Wang noticed it from the moment they had exited the shop. He did not question it, not wanting to make Sakura feel more uncomfortable. Marguerite’s eyes wandered around; from the building to Sakura to other people who admired the scenery. As it seemed, many decided to take a walk in this area of the town. At the corner of her eye she detected her cousin and brother. Both were engaged in a conversation as they saw Marguerite looking and waving at them.

They all greeted each other again, except for Sakura, who was too focussed on her attempt to draw. Arthur, having noticed Sakura’s absent greeting, seated himself next to her.

He observed the way she held the small chalk in her hand and how elegant the strokes looked on the paper. From time to time she would tilt her head to the side to inspect the scenery in front of her, comparing it to the painting in her hands. For the English Gentleman, it was an adorable sight. Never before had he witnessed any woman drawing in public; not to mention that any of the members in his social entourage would think of such an occupation. The Ladies, who were accomplished, drew at home but not in when they were socially engaged with other members of the Gentry. Most of them would have talked to Arthur upon seeing him; particularly the gentlewomen who would have paid him several compliments. It was an uncommon occurrence for him to be ignored or not noticed by the fairer sex. Considering their first meeting, these occurrences with Sakura seemed almost normal. At first she had been sure of his occupation of a gardener – he blamed his stained attire and walk to the backdoor – and now he was pure air for her; invisible for her beautiful brown eyes. Although he wanted to talk with her about her drawing, he remained silent. His hand covered his mouth as he let out a small chuckle. Indeed he had never been in such a position before.

Sakura was startled the moment she heard a soft laughing next to her. She stopped her movements and her body grew tense before she heard Arthur’s reassuring words.

“Excuse me Miss, I did not mean to interrupt you. Please do not feel troubled by my presence.”

She peered into his eyes; those intense green eyes which had claimed her attention since their first encounter. The Japanese detected his cousin Alfred behind him and realised that she had not noticed their approaching. “I-I am sorry Sir, but h-how long have you been watching me?” she asked a little shocked, realising that she had ignored him unintentionally without meaning it. Her eyes now focussed on the ground.

Arthur did not expect such a question as an answer (although he was aware of his light staring). He wondered if he had caused her any distress by sitting next to her. His sight fell on her painting and he concluded that Sakura felt unwell if someone was observing her while she was preoccupied with her drawing. “I-I do apologise Miss Honda, I did not mean to s-stare or t-to disturb you,” he stuttered, an uncommon occurrence. The gentleman was reconsidering his words after uttering them. She was making him a little nervous and that was odd for the Englishman who had never been unsettled in the presence of a woman before.

“O-oh no you did not wrong me,” she objected quietly, looking at him. “I-I did not notice your arrival and presence.” His eyes softened immediately.

“I did not mean to startle you and I can see why you were so concentrated on your work.” Arthur remarked how her cheeks heated up. An adorable blush adorning her face as she realised that he was praising her work.

“This looks absolutely fantastic,” he exclaimed in complete awe. “May I?” Sakura was speechless as he admired the chalk painting. The only one who had seen and praised her work before had always been her uncle.

“T-thank you,” she whispered.

“Who taught you to draw?” Arthur inquired curiously. It was the beginning of an interesting conversation in which Sakura explained him several things about her childhood. She had gained her talent for art by practice which her mother approved greatly. As she told him about her upbringing in Japan, Arthur’s fascination only increased. He had noticed that she and her uncle were immensely different from their appearance. Albeit he had made several acquaintances with foreign people, he had never encountered a Japanese woman in his lifetime.

While Sakura confided in Arthur, he could not prevent himself from smiling as she told him about her beloved memories. Sometimes the Japanese’s face was graced with a smile too. She was too much engaged in remembering that she did not detect the rosy colour on his cheeks. He discovered small details which he had never paid attention to; the way her face formed small dimples when she smiled, how she cupped her right cheek with her hand when she was pondering or how she would redden and stroke a short wisp of hair – which had fallen out of her bun – behind her ear. The latter two always occurred whenever she was unsure of her words. Arthur Kirkland concluded that Sakura Honda was indeed a wonderful and interesting woman who had not become infatuated with the latest London fashion – as most English Ladies had – but had great interest in immaterial values such as culture, art and social interactions (without taking the ranking of classes in consideration). In exchange, the Englishman told her about his vast unsuccessful attempt to cook for his family. The end of this adventure was too amusing for Sakura; the poor woman let out a loud laughter which attracted more attention than she had expected. To Arthur’s dismay she covered her sweet smiling mouth immediately; her small blush expressing her embarrassment. To say that he was content to see her in such a state was an understatement. He admired her, and for him it was quite shocking to feel such an emotion for a person after only knowing her for several days.

“Oh _Monsieur_ Kirkland, _quelle surprise_.”

Upon hearing the French language, Arthur’s body cringed. Sakura noticed the change in his demeanour; his once content facial expression hardened and she could almost detect his friendly eyes growing colder and more distant. She was unaware that the Englishman disliked to display his emotions – especially his personal feelings – openly. Both of them looked up; the source of the new voice was in front of them.

It was the Baronet Francis Bonnefoy who graced them with his presence. His companion was his sister Miss Marie Bonnefoy. The two siblings observed the odd couple on the bench and waited for Arthur to introduce Sakura to them. Alfred, seeing his cousin’s struggle, reacted immediately and introduced them properly.

“Miss Sakura Honda,” he motioned towards the French siblings, “Sir Francis Bonnefoy and his sister Miss Marie Bonnefoy.”

The Japanese recognised the name immediately; having heard it an hour ago in the shop. Her eyes widened for a second before regaining her usual countenance. “It’s an honour meeting you,” she expressed softly, curtsying after she stood up. “ _Oh mais elle est très mignonne_ ,” Miss Bonnefoy complimented, regarding Arthur with a knowing look. He on the other hand was averting his gaze towards her brother with crossed arms.

“How have you been Mr Kirkland?” Francis asked, a great smile adorning his face. He knew – Arthur was certain of it – about the involvement of Alfred and the stay of their guest. And he was right because the French mentioned it the moment after their greeting.

“I’ve heard of your guests and I must admit that I am very pleased,” he affirmed, eyeing Sakura whose cheeks in return coloured. Receiving so many compliments was an unfamiliar occurrence for her. Unfortunately, Arthur’s scowling face and narrowed eyes – which were observing the French and Sakura – were left unnoticed. He opposed the idea of the Baronet having such conversations with her. The Baronet had often had his ways with young women, particularly during the London season. His sister detected the Englishman’s disapproval look; she had her suspicions considering him and Sakura’s acquaintanceship. Nevertheless she trusted her intuitive powers – which had never failed her before – and concluded that the British man was forming an attachment for the black-haired woman next to him. “Mr Kirkland, have you received news of the upcoming ball?”

Sakura’s eyes wandered back to the beautiful French Miss and parts of the conversation in the shop came back to her mind. _Have you heard that Miss Bonnefoy tried to catch his interest?_ Mr Kirkland was not courting anyone despite the amount of graceful and gorgeous Ladies who were trying to catch the British man’s attention. That left Sakura with many different thoughts. Perhaps he was not interested in an engagement – although his rank forced him to have an heir – or he was already smitten by someone but decided to keep it secret.

“So, how have you met the lovely Lady?” Marie asked with innocent eyes which wandered between him and Sakura.

“W-well. . .”

Arthur’s face heated immensely, recalling the memories of Alfred’s letter, the awkward arrival at his home in dirtied clothes and Sakura’s assumptions of him being a servant of his own mansion. He imagined Alfred and Francis planning this farcical circumstance to embarrass him and to his dismay Marie inquired to have a more detailed report of it.

Trying to explain himself, Sakura beheld the scene: Miss Marie’s confidential smile, Mr Kirkland’s failing attempt to talk and reddened face. For her those were signs of admiration – mostly from the Englishman’s side – and thought that her former thoughts of him keeping his attachments in secret were true. It must have been extremely embarrassing for the man to realise that Marie had learned of Sakura’s visit. To know that he was entertaining guests from a foreign country – under his roof – were an unfamiliar practice. _These guests should be grateful for not being thrown out_. Once again she was reminded of the words of the two Ladies in the shop. _He must have been pressed to accept and offered them a lodging._

Without realising, Sakura excused herself quietly from the party and walked towards her uncle. Arthur was left wondering what had made her feel unsettled; he had felt her uncertainty but was not aware of what could have happened to made her feel that way. At that moment, his sight fell on the Frenchman, who – in Arthur’s opinion – was to blame for Sakura’s disappearance.

As she approached her uncle, she saw how he and Alfred were talking to new faces. Two young men were engaged in the conversation; one tall and blonde, the other white-haired with red eyes. Never before had she met a person with such an appearance. In spite of their facial features, both of the males were wearing a military uniform. “Hello, Miss,” the tall blonde said politely introducing himself as Ludwig Beilschmidt while the white-haired man next to him exclaimed to be his elder brother. Their last name indicated their nationality and Sakura knew that she had heard of them hours ago. “I’ve heard of your arrival,” Ludwig stated, talking to Yao. Sakura was still astonished of how fast rumours spread in England. It was the neighbouring village of their lodging and everyone was aware of her and her uncle’s staying.

“Mr Kirkland, how nice to meet you here.”

Arthur, who had joined their party – standing right behind Sakura without her remarking it – watching Gilbert’s smile which had formed after seeing the British man. “I wanted to call on you this late afternoon in order to invite you to my ball.”

“Yes, indeed I have heard of it. And,” Arthur positioned himself next to Sakura, searching her eyes. Gilbert understood his alluding and corrected his invitation, “I meant to say, we, my brother and I would be honoured to invite you and your current guests to our ball.”

Mr Wang smiled, thanking him for his kind offer, while Sakura’s demeanour changed. It was certain now that she would attend it and had only two to three weeks to be prepared for it.

“Of course we will attend,” Mr Kirkland said, “… right, Miss Honda, if you have no objections?”

All eyes focussed on the petite woman and she could not prevent herself from stuttering. “Y-Yes, of course. T-Thank you for inviting us.”

“Fantastic! But I still wanted to call on you, to meet your lovely company.”

Arthur agreed; it would be of great importance for Sakura and her uncle to acquaint the hosting family of the ball. “I will try to make arrangements for tonight to invite you formally to supper.”

“Thank you, I hope your cook will make a marvellous dish. I am always looking forward to it,” Gilbert expressed, not knowing that Arthur had made changes in his household. After informing the Prussian of it, the party returned home. During the drive, Arthur asked Sakura many questions, such as what kind of dresses she preferred to wear. Marguerite confessed that they had not spent a lot of time in the shop, due to Sakura’s request of exiting. Although the seamstress had her measurements, the two women had not bought anything.

“Oh,” he replied quietly, thinking that something had occurred to made her feel vexed.

* * *

 

**Translation:**

_Monsieur_ Kirkland, _quelle surprise – Mr Kirkland, what a surprise_  
_Oh mais elle est très mignonne – Oh but she is very cute_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: I did not intend to write a 3’000 words chapter :’D but I needed to introduce Prussia and Germany into the story :D.]


	4. 4

“I always admired his mansion, although our home is just as fabulous.”

Ludwig listened as his older brother praised the Landlord’s home while they were climbing out of the carriage. For several years Gilbert and Arthur had been friends. Even though the German often noted that the Englishman’s patience with Gilbert was tested greatly. He himself had grown up with strong patience, thanking Mother Nature for gifting him with it; otherwise his older brother would have been extremely bothersome. His childish manner was nothing for poor and sensitive nerves. The siblings were in the military, the oldest brother being higher ranked than Ludwig and enjoyed to make orders to the soldiers who were under his command.

“It will be an entertaining evening,” Gilbert commented, walking towards the main door. As usual they needed to wait in the drawing room before a butler would inform them of Mr Kirkland’s approaching. Within a few minutes the two Germans were greeted politely by the master of the house. It did not take them long to strike a conversation while Ludwig thought about talking to Sakura who was seating on the settee near the window. Her uncle was more interested in engaging a conversation with the oldest German brother who was praising his own successful military interactions as a General of his birth country Prussia. Whilst Sakura was having a conversation with Ludwig, the oldest brother’s loud voice was interrupting their talk permanently. This happened whenever the two brothers were visiting relatives, but Ludwig was certain that Gilbert did not intend to disrupt every person in the room with his pride and tales of being a great Prussian citizen.

After this joyful exclamation, Sakura’s attention was caught and she wanted to ask Ludwig why he considered himself German while Gilbert claimed to have Prussian blood. Although she was curious, she did not dare to ask him about it.

“He was born in Prussia before our family decided to live in the Kingdom of Hanover, where I was born,” Ludwig explained, having seen Sakura’s questioning eyes. No one needed to ask him, he was aware of people’s curiosity. “He is Prussian by birth and was given the citizenship due to his position and accomplishments in the Prussian Army.”

“Oh, I understand,” the female acknowledged, musing about her next words. “I have a different citizenship than my uncle.”

Within a minute, the two were engaged in a friendly manner. While Ludwig told her of his difficult adventurous time with his beloved brother, Sakura enjoyed herself. The cultural interaction was a freshening occurrence for both. All the while the talking party had not noticed the intense stare of a pair of green eyes.

Arthur had ignored Gilbert and Alfred’s exciting voices long ago; although the Prussian was entertaining, the Englishman was too distracted by observing Sakura and her new companion. He longed to have a share in their conversation, to sit near them when the Japanese smiled which she did occasionally during her talk with Ludwig. The moment Gilbert quietened, Arthur heard Ludwig uttering an interesting question.

“Is it true? You are familiar with martial arts?” Ludwig asked, a small smile gracing his face. “That is indeed very interesting.”

It was new information about her that delighted Arthur. She certainly was different from women he knew; her character, interest and cultural background. He himself could barely fight – as Alfred told him; he liked to jest about Arthur’s fighting skills – unless he was in possession of a gun or a knife and needed to defend a Lady’s honour. The fascination which he had for Sakura increased, just like the little spark of admiration he had for her.

“Martial arts? Wow, I never thought I would encounter a pretty woman who knew how to fight,” Gilbert expressed with a smirk while Alfred approved this compliment. “I hope I don’t sound too bold in my inquiry, but would you show us a move?”

That uncommon request startled the young Japanese. She would have agreed if the present people would have persuaded her more, but she made her final decision as her eyes fell on Arthur and her uncle. Although the former was staring at her with a gaping expression, Yao disapproval face forced her to decline Gilbert’s wish. The uncomfortableness was visible in her body language; her face reddened and she diverted her sight back to the British man who had stood up and walked towards her, his eyes showing a great amount of interest.

“I’d rather not. I do apologise, but I do not feel as if such an activity is proper for a woman in a gentleman’s house,” she defended her decision, her coloured cheeks displaying her embarrassment. The gentleman she had mentioned stopped his movement. His eyebrows rose up. Despite the part of it being improper, Arthur was curious about her accomplishment in fighting; just like Alfred who wore a giant smile on his face. The Gentleman reflected if she was thinking that he would dislike and disapprove such behaviour. It was not considered lady-like but he did not care; if a Lady was capable of defending herself in a dangerous situation, he would be less worried.

“B-But-”

His attempt to talk was once again interrupted by a knock and a servant who would lead them to the dining room.

 

Gilbert stared at the dish in front of him. The white-haired man did not know what to think of it. While holding the fork in his right hand, his mind wandered to the supper he had imagined hours ago: Sauerkraut, Potatoes, Knödel, everything his Prussian tongue wished to taste. Unfortunately in front of him was a salmon filet. Fish was not his favourite food and it was an unfamiliar occurrence for him to eat it at the Kirkland mansion. He reminded himself of the recent news Arthur had given him. The Englishman had occupied a new cook which Gilbert opposed the more he was staring at the fish. Arthur’s former cook had made enchanting dinners every time Gilbert was visiting; unbeknownst to him, the previous cook was an old German-born woman who had made the cookery at that time. The British Gentleman had let her go as she requested him to engage a new person for that task. Due to that fact it was normal, that German dishes were more common than fish when the Beilschmidt siblings were visiting.

“Is something wrong with the fish, Mr Beilschmidt?” Arthur asked nicely, eyeing the quiet man across from him. He had noticed the Prussian’s stillness and realised that it was not a normal circumstance for such a loud person.

Knowing his brother for all his life, Ludwig was aware of what was in the Prussian’s mind. He thought his older sibling would have eaten his food after minutes of staring at it. To his dismay, that did not occur; Gilbert was still observing his dish with a twitching eye and decided to utter his opinion to his blonde brother. “Fisch? Ich war der Auffassung wir würden deutsche Kost verspeisen.“

In respect of the presence of the guests and the host, he whispered in German; in a soft voice which only Ludwig could hear. His conversation partner sighed, muttering something incoherent to himself – probably cursing his older brother for his behaviour.

“Bruder, iss einfach auf,” Ludwig murmured, suppressing his impatience with every stance; although his voice was strained with light annoyance. “Wir sind als Gäste hier, obwohl du dich praktisch selbst eingeladen hast.“

Gilbert’s eyes wandered back to his dish before glancing at Arthur. “No, I was not aware of what we would have for supper.”

This expression was extremely complex but the host understood what the Prussian meant.

“Please accept my apologies. My new cook has not yet mastered the German dishes,” Arthur apologised, even if he was being a little dishonest with those words. Of course Elizabeta had mastered some German dishes, but she had not bought the needed ingredients. Due to the spontaneous invitation Arthur had not specifically told her to cook Sauerkraut or anything that would please the older Mr Beilschmidt. He had promised him to make the arrangements – which included the German food – but forgot that Miss Héderváry was not aware of cooking such dishes when his German friends would come. In addition to that, he was a little afraid of informing her (she was a stubborn person after all). The woman had already planned the supper with the ingredients she had chosen at noontime. In spite of him being her employee, Arthur was a little frightened to make orders which concerned her cookery; especially if the order would indicate that her dish was not accepted by the confident man who was a guest in Arthur’s house and a loud Prussian General.

“N-not mastered yet?”

Gilbert’s facial expression was adorned by astonishment and shock. He could not conceive how a cook was incapable of making a simple German dish.

“W-well she is still young and within the few months she has worked here, she has never made any grand German dish. Only small side dishes,” Arthur explained with the urge to justify Elizabeta’s choice of food.

“She told me weeks ago that she is not really fond of German food,” Alfred commented, not expecting to make the atmosphere tenser. His cousin glared at him; this whole conversation was on the verge of escalating. Although the topic was only concerning food but some people still felt insulted by it.

“I-I am certain she did not mean it,” Arthur affirmed, seeing as Gilbert’s mien worsened. “But her dishes are really wonderful, Mr Beilschmidt.”

Gilbert was now staring at Alfred; not understanding how someone – especially a cook – was not fond of his beloved German food. After hearing that the cook was a young female, he decided to take measures in his own hand: he would make her feel unsettled, uncertain about her skill in cookery. If he would dine regularly at the Kirkland mansion – which would happen, because he and Ludwig wanted to reside a few months in their summerhouse in England – the woman needed to know what dishes he wanted to have served in front of him; and it would certainly not be fish.

“I know you are not to blame Mr Kirkland, but I do not like fish,” Gilbert spoke, loud enough for the servants in the household to hear. “I expect your cook has prepared other meals for the evening. As you said, the little Miss cook must be able to enlighten us with her skills.”

Ludwig was embarrassed, even though he was used to such expressive claims from his brother, he knew what hardships the new cook would face. He already felt sympathy for her and for Arthur who had to explain the poor female that the oldest Mr Beilschmidt was indeed an odd, commanding and prim Prussian man who did not liked to be displeased.

 

“What?” The Hungarian woman whispered to herself as she was taking care of the second dish of the evening. To prepare a five-course meal was exhausting enough for her, but hearing a critical response of her cookery was angering her. “Who does he think he is?” she asked herself again, cutting the meat with such a force that the wood underneath it almost broke. The young female was trying to focus on her task but was too much engaged in her thoughts. Only two hours before, her Master had informed her of the new guests, requesting her to prepare for seven people but she had not been expecting to make a dish for an ill-mannered man.

The man’s voice had caught her attention since he had arrived in the mansion and she disliked him before knowing who he was. Not only had he given her the name ‘little Miss Cook’ but criticised her food without taking a taste. The dishes had been brought back minutes ago, and one plate had not been touched. “What a despicable and insolent man.”

During the rest of the evening, Elizabeta overheard his vexing exclaims and every time the dishes were brought back into the kitchen to be cleaned, his plate was always the one that had not been touched. She knew that it was his way of telling her to adapt to his favours in food; that he was superior to her due to him being a guest and friend of Mr Kirkland.

Gilbert on the other hand was proud of his utterings. He was already imaging the young cook feeling ashamed and trying to improve for the will of pleasing him. Regardless of his rank and lovely behaviour towards his brother, the man liked to provoke other person’s patience by giving orders and exclaiming his disapproval. To his disadvantage, Elizabeta was not an unsettled woman who was intimidated by his attempts. The Hungarian was quite the opposite; she was aware of her appealing confidence –the most in her environment knew of her temper and strength, causing them to not oppose her.

Her fuming mood worsened from meal to meal. At a certain point, she decided to give the kitchen maids six plates instead of seven.

After giving that order, the dinner-room remained silent, no insulting comment was exclaimed and Elizabeta felt victorious, until the annoying voice barked again. Never before had her body reacted so fast as at that moment.

Within few minutes, Elizabeta rushed to the room – using the servant’s stairway –with the missing dish. Elizabeta was breaking all social rules but did not consider it thoroughly; her rage was controlling her. As she entered the dining room, several bewildered eyes –beside the guests, the butlers and some upper-servants – observed her. Even though the Hungarian had never beheld the Prussian man before, she knew who it was when her eyes found him and approached him. Without a word, she dipped the content of the plate in his face, causing everyone to gasp.

“I won’t let anyone insult my cooking skills,” she breathed, her eyes furious. “Especially not from such an arrogant and odious man.”

Instead of shouting at the fuming woman in front of him, Gilbert only stared. It was a move which would possibly cause her to lose her job and reputation. He had never expected her to be so bold and attack him with food that was supposed to be dined by him. The man was too shocked to reply any verbal comment.

He tried with the remaining air in his lungs – which was stuck in his throat due to her action – to defend his hurt pride by standing up. One could tell that the fellow was extremely displeased; his face red due to the embarrassment and his mood changed from playful to intense anger. Ludwig was aware of his brother’s next words; Gilbert’s facial expression was indicating the next verbal attack. It would cause the young female cook to shy away from him. With food dripping from his face, Gilbert cleared his throat before uttering a threat. “I–“

“Oh be quiet will you! If you want to have something to eat, cook it yourself, I won’t move a single finger for you,“ she announced spitefully, “I spent the last two hours preparing everything for you and you don’t appreciate it.” She did not give him a chance to answer as Elizabeta continued to express her opinion of him. And it was at that certain moment that Gilbert looked at her closely. Her brown chignon moved along with her head as she gestured widely, “You won’t succeed in discouraging me!”

The Prussian stared at the fuming female in front of him. He was speechless; she was the first woman to have confronted him. Considering her position he never thought she would dare to approach to him in such a manner. In addition to her stubborn manner and strong character, Gilbert was enchanted by her beauty. Her expressive angry green eyes, soft looking lips (although they were currently shouting at him) and her beautiful hair was all he saw. For Elizabeta the awful atmosphere grew tenser while Gilbert felt as if heaven had sent him an (angry) angel from above. He was completely awestruck by her. The enchanted man leaned to the side towards his sibling. “Sie ist wunderschön,” he muttered to his brother, who in return pinched the back of his nose with his fingers. Of course, Ludwig thought, his brother would speak out words which did not match the atmosphere of the current moment; although the younger German was surprised of his brother’s unfamiliar calm reaction.

Elizabeta’s anger ceased as she stared at the gaping guests and realised her bold move. Her eyes wandered to her master who in exchange was observing the moment with shocking eyes. Considering Gilbert’s behaviour towards her, Arthur sympathised with her, having experienced the same comments after trying to cook.

The Gentleman was still flabbergasted by the current happening. It was unbelievable, not only had she insulted his guest, but she had denied a high-ranked General of the Prussian army his food.

He had been content with her as a cook and now he needed to reconsider it due to her action towards his guest; an improper and disrespectful gesture. As his function as host and her master, he needed to decide if she would continue her occupation in his house or not.

To his astonishment Gilbert was not punishing her with awful words or orders (as he would normally do), but was eyeing her with a coloured face and a small smile.

Elizabeta interpreted this facial expression as a victorious smirk; because she was aware what would happen to her. But for the Englishman, this was an odd behaviour from the Prussian and he did not comprehend what had just occurred that caused arrogant Gilbert Beilschmidt to smile.

* * *

 

**Translation:**

Fisch? Ich war der Auffassung, wir würden deutsche Kost verspeisen. – Fish? I believed we would eat German food.  
Bruder, iss einfach auf – Brother, just eat up  
Wir sind als Gäste hier, obwohl du dich praktisch selbst eingeladen hast. – We are here as Guests, although you practically invited yourself  
Sie ist wunderschön – She is beautiful

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: I fucking love Pruhun :D such a dynamic, stubborn, tsundere and cute couple :D. In this fanfic, Gilbert is arrogant (due to his position) but that is of course only superficial :D ]


	5. 5

Sakura observed her frame in the looking glass. “Any powder, Miss?”

The Japanese looked up at the servant next to her. She was not accustomed to this new development. After her uncle told Mr Kirkland about their home and living, the Englishman had insisted on giving her a personal maid who would take care of her. Although it was a nice suggestion, the Japanese did not want to give up her independence in dressing herself. She was capable of doing it by her own hand. Nonetheless she accepted in order to be polite and told the female servant to only help her with the powder and hairdressing.

“Yes, thank you.”

It was an uncommon situation for Sakura; having a personal maid, being treated as if she was a member of the nobility. As she had requested Alfred to introduce her to the servants, he seemed surprised with that task. The black-haired woman had read in several novels that the servants were not allowed to engage with the masters and mistresses of the house. It was a rule to turn around and eye the wall when the royal household passed them. Sakura was glad to be in a mansion where such rules were not considered important.

After the maid left to tend to her other duties, Sakura looked at herself again in the mirror. The hairstyle and dress were giving her an elegant aura; it was extremely unfamiliar for her; she looked very English. Minutes passed before she decided to exit her bedroom and walked to the dining room.

It was the day after the odd dilemma of the previous night and the memories were still very fresh.

She knew that Elizabeta was a strong character who would have confronted the older Beilschmidt sibling for hours, had she not been in the presence of her employee. After she had seen Mr Kirkland’s astonished expression, the woman bowed her head in shame and left the room without a soft “I will clean it up”. Nonetheless, the evening had ended abruptly and Elizabeta had not faced any consequences that night. Arthur had explicitly explained to the oldest Mr Beilschmidt that he would take care of her by deciding over her fate the next morning after breakfast. Sakura hoped to talk to the Gentleman before he would dismiss Elizabeta, who had been a good friend to her the last two weeks. She knew it was an abrupt step to defend Elizabeta from her host, but she felt obligated. Fortunately, the man waited in front of the dinner room as Sakura approached him. Her hands were a little sweaty due to the following request she would have for him.

“Oh, good morning Miss Honda,” the man in question greeted gently , a small smile on his face as he stepped to the Japanese who reciprocated his greeting words. After the usual inquiries after their health, the two stilled and looked at each other. While Arthur’s face warmed, Sakura diverted her eyes; the nervous female was still musing over her next action. A daring action.

“Mr Kirkland, I hope I will not unsettle you with my request, but I wanted to talk to you about last night’s event.”

The British man frowned a little; he had not expected her to mention the former night. Of course he was still embarrassed as his role of a master and failed to have commanded Elizabeta back to the kitchen when it had happened. He felt responsible for his guest’s situation and Elizabeta –due to his commitment to the household he had occupied and his sympathy for her. Gilbert had not been soft in his insults towards her. Arthur had endured the occurrence without any word. During the awful set-down, his eyes had wandered from the cook and Prussian, to his foreign guests. He hoped that both knew that it was not a western feature to greet one’s guests with dipping food over them. Sakura’s face had expressed the same amount of shock; just like his face and after the ordeal, she had gone to bed without another word. The dreading sensation of speaking about this certain problem was causing him to cringe for seconds before a stoic expression hid his nervousness. “Well, is it of great importance? If yes, we can speak about it immediately,” he uttered.

Upon seeing her hesitation, he reformed his words in a softer tone and she replied with a small nod and a nervous sigh, before explaining him her thoughts about the dinner dilemma. “I do not mean to justify Miss Elizabeta’s action towards Mr Beilschmidt, but I must defend her,” she admitted, “After all her hard work, he had offended her in the most ridiculous manner I have ever heard.” She turned to the side, observing the flowers on the windowpane. “Her reaction had been a little … uncivil, I admit, but it was not her intention of displaying such behaviour,” she argued and forgot her place as a guest as she continued to criticise Arthur’s friends. “If it had not been Mr Beilschmidt’s –“

“Sakura?”

Her uncle’s voice interrupted them; he had stood behind the door of the dining room and overheard their conversation. The older man was not pleased as he heard his niece’s outburst and critical speech. He understood, completely, but it was not her place to word such opinions in front of her host.

Sakura’s eyes widened as Yao laid his hand on her shoulder. She had been to forward and expressed her thoughts although she had no right to do so. The Japanese wanted to protect her female friend from being dismissed, but it was not her choice to decide. “I-I am very sorry, Sir, for wasting your time,” she apologised, her voice monotone and sounding extremely polite, as Arthur remarked. “It was not my place to express my thoughts so openly.”

Before the Englishman had any chance to answer her, Yao bowed and begged for his pardon.

Arthur watched as the two entered the dining room. He was left with a lot on his mind. Beside his duties of following the rules and making them clear to his workers, he understood Sakura’s worries. Elizabeta was a dear friend of hers and the Englishman did not want to fire the Hungarian, although her behaviour had caused him to do so. In addition to that, he would be responsible for Sakura’s feelings. She would be sad over the loss of her new friend – considering that she had only formed a few friendships since she had been in England.

He was torn, between his expectations of a master of the house and a friend – of Gilbert Beilschmidt. “Oh dear Lord, and the day has just begun,” the blonde sighed. He steadied himself before entering the dining room to join his guests. A cough forced him to halt in his movements; his butler stood behind him. “Err, Sir, I apologise to stop you from eating, but Mr Beilschmidt is waiting in the drawing room.”

 

‘Why is he calling on me?’ Arthur thought to himself as he stood in front of the drawing room. “It’s too early to receive any guests.” The butler next to him agreed silently but explained his reasons why he had let the older Mr Beilschmidt in. “He insisted.” Was the answer he received from his upper servant, although Arthur knew that the butler feared the Prussian general. It was common talk among the servants that Mr Gilbert Beilschmidt’s way of ordering, commanding and insisting was a bit excessive. They had not opposed his wishes and always addressed him as General Beilschmidt, even though he was not present in his inform nor were they officially under his order. All of Arthur’s servants had been gentle to the Prussian and fulfilled his wishes, except for one certain Hungarian female whose fate in working as a cook lay in the hands of the English Gentleman.

“Mr Beilschmidt,” Arthur said, entering the drawing room with his butler holding the door open. The addressed man stood immediately. While his right arm was rubbing his neck, his left held a bouquet; an arrangement of roses and daisies. At first the British man was astonished of this odd situation; why was his friend bringing flowers? After thinking about it for a second, his mood changed and a slight jealous feeling gripped him. He reflected on the past day; Gilbert’s interest in Sakura – although they had not had any great interaction – and Arthur could not prevent himself from tensing; was the general trying to flatter the Japanese?

“I am sorry for calling on you this early, but I have a request.”

‘In the name of God,’ the English thought, ’the second one within two minutes.’ He nodded, displaying his interest in listening to the man in front of him. “I wanted to inform you that last night’s dilemma was my fault,” he sheepishly confessed, “I meant no harm.”

Gilbert seated himself again and averted his sight to the window, “Please don’t dismiss the cook on my account. It was my fault and I want her to remain in her position.”

With a coloured face, he glanced back at Arthur again, pounding over his next words. “My brother told me to come here and apologise to you in person,” he spoke softly. “A-and to personally a-apologise to your cook.”

This kind of behaviour and stuttering was an utmost uncommon circumstance for Arthur. He believed the part in which Gilbert explained that Ludwig wanted him to express his apologises. But to call on the British man before having breakfast, with a bouquet and rosy cheeks was unfamiliar. This demeanour must have an absolute different cause.

With a rising brow, Arthur strutted to his friend. “Are you certain?” he asked, seeing as the Prussian chuckled nervously and rubbed his neck. “Yes.”

 

“What has just happened?” Arthur muttered to himself as he sat with Gilbert in his office. He had called his butler to fetch Elizabeta; he would tell her a few words concerning her behaviour towards Gilbert before inform her that she would remain in her occupation in this house.

The brunette waited in front of her master’s office; waiting to be dismissed after the awful incident from the night before. Although it had been a frivolous action of hers, she did not really regret it. The Prussian had insulted her and she needed to defend herself; plus her temper had been increased by the man’s comments. The female would rather be dismissed than serving for the general any time. Nonetheless she hoped to stay. Perhaps her behaviour had caused the odious German-speaking man to avoid his master’s house at all. “You will try to justify your actions,” she told herself quietly and breathed in; she was prepared to be faced with the consequences and knocked on the door.

“Please come in.”

Elizabeta opened the door – not giving the butler one chance to do it, she was a confidant woman and he seemed to have realised it the moment she had glanced at him – and walked to Arthur’s desk. She had not yet seen the other man in the room – the man she disapproved the most at the moment. However, her eyes caught him, as he interrupted Arthur’s attempt to talk.

Gilbert rushed to the baffled female and handed her the bouquet he had brought with him. “Please accept my utmost apologises,” he stated confidently, although his coloured cheeks and downcast eyes were deceiving his pretentious state. “I-I should have never made any insulting comments about you or your food,” he admitted, “I had not shown the manners of a gentleman. I am very sorry.”

He had almost whispered the last syllables. If he had looked up and observed the young female’s reaction, which was clearly shock, he would not have finished his sentence at all. His heart was pounding fast just by being in her presence.

“Are you jesting?” was all, the brunette answered; at first she was shocked but after she thought about his words, she felt mocked. “You insult me in order to make me feel unsettled about my position as a cook and as a woman,” she argued, piercing him with her glare. “You wanted me to change the lunch only for your sake, and now you come here and word a pathetic excuse.” Her eyes fell on the flowers in his stretched arms, waiting for her to be accepted. “And I don’t hope you expect me to cook these,” she mocked, alluding her perception of his taste of food.

Arthur wanted to intervene but remained still. He told himself that he wanted to see Gilbert’s reaction; although it was clear that he was a little frightened by Elizabeta’s outburst – which he would never admit openly.

Gilbert’s leaping heart did not calm down; although he hated how angry she was at him, he was still captured by the sight of her. The way she argued was unfamiliar; the man in question was not use to be treated in such a way by the fairer sex. After all, he was an admired man among Ladies and Gentlemen. Nonetheless, he enjoyed her set-downs.

Firstly, he had been a little startled by her refusal but a smile stretched itself on his face as she had finished. A gorgeous and confidant woman, who knew how to defend herself with verbal arguments in a world of patriarchal society, was the kind of woman he wanted to marry; he had thought about it since she had dipped the food on his head. But now, the decision had been made: he would wed her no matter what hardships he would have to witness to have her (he was aware that she disliked him). It was not his object to receive her as a possession – his heart and moral would refuse to acknowledge that – but it was his intuition that told him that she was the only female on earth who could handle and eventual love him. All those thoughts were running through his mind and he forgot time.

Elizabeta wondered why he was still staring at her with warming eyes.

Arthur observed the scene with a hand resting on his forehead. He knew that this would not be the last time Gilbert would visit him, and poorElizabeta had no idea; the woman was not aware that the Prussian had set his cap on her. “Err, Mr Beilschmidt,” he said calmly, trying to gain his attention . . . To no avail.

“Please Elizabeta, accept his flowers,” Arthur now whispered to her, receiving a glare from the brunette. “I will not dismiss you.”

Upon hearing the last sentence of her master, she took the bouquet – although her hands were extremely reluctant in that task – and thanked him before her feet took her to the door. She was stopped in her movement, as an unfamiliar hand grabbed hers softly causing her to turn around. “Y-Your name?”

The man in front of her was not the same she had encountered the previous day; his manners were absolute different. She stayed quiet and refused to answer. But as she saw Arthur’s impatient eyes, she mouthed her name and rushed out of the office before anyone could prevent her from it.

 

“Elizabeta,” whispered Gilbert, a rosy colour adorning his cheeks. “What a beautiful name.”

“You apologised, so what do you want to do now? Some tea or fish? Criticise another servant of mine? Or visiting me every morning?” The English Gentleman was inquiring about Gilbert’s daily activity – in a very sarcastic way and knowing that the white-haired man would not be offended by his choice of words– the Prussian completely misinterpreted his question. He cleared his throat – a confident aura surrounding him – and turned back to his host with a big smirk. “Of course I am going to marry her.”


	6. 6

After Gilbert had spent the entire day in Arthur’s mansion – observing almost every corner in his house in the hopes of seeing Elizabeta – Arthur had come to the conclusion that he needed to teach his guests the rules of Victorian dancing. If they were to attend the Beilschmidt’s ball, they needed to know the steps. During the evening, he was suggesting this idea and received approval from every present. He had already explained some steps – theoretically – while they were eating supper. Sakura had listened carefully and asked a few questions which caused the man to form a smile. Throughout the evening the Englishman had observed her – which was left unnoticed to her but not from Alfred who shot him a knowing look. The way she had perked up every time Arthur was commenting something or how she had inquired after the several types of dances. It had made the British man content and he realised how adorable he found her. Alfred on the other side of the table had grinned brightly, happy for his cousin. He knew that Arthur was infatuated with the calm Japanese. Fortunately, she seemed to be pleased with him too. All those observations caused the young American to think about his own future. Matrimony was a topic he liked to avoid – just like Arthur. Both were under the pressure of marrying for providing an heir to inherit their fortune (or in Alfred’s case: businesses). He had often been confronted with mothers of debutants who eagerly wanted their daughters to dance with him. Marrying someone of the ton was expected from the two. Arthur had been a little indecisive of whom to wed. However, Alfred was certain that he would never take a member of the English society as a wife. Arthur often tried to change his mind with no success. “I don’t want a wife who is more interested in her beauty than anything else,” the American had said, “And you too would be unhappy if you have to wed someone who is looking more in the mirror than at you.”

The two were often surrounded by young females on balls. The season was the worst for the two. Although his cousin was often overwhelmed by young giggling women – an amusing sight for Alfred to see the English struggling for private sphere – he seemed to have the situation more under control than Alfred. The attending Ladies were judging him due to his occupation as a tradesman, but they still tried to flirt with him (probably because he had a goof fortune). The double standards in Society were incomprehensible for him. But in the end he did not care; he would not marry any soon. Which could not be said of Arthur, Alfred concluded. The green-eyed man was besotted with the Japanese woman who was smiling at every word he uttered. And the American did not oppose such a marriage; he was fond of her and his cousin. At least his sister-in-law would not be a wandering English artwork with a feather hat and make up, but a Samurai’s daughter.

 

The following morning Arthur was so excited to show them – especially Sakura – this cultural aspect of Victorian lifestyle. As he entered the drawing room where they would dance, he had not expected someone to be present; it was only the beginning of the day and the man was surprised as his eyes caught Sakura’s form near the window. She was observing the gardens; her dreamy expression was intensified by the sun’s lighting which shone through the glasses of the window. Arthur stopped immediately, wondering how she could look so angelic. He continued walking further into the room with the attempt of addressing her, even though she still had not perceived him.

“Miss Honda,” he called out softly but received no reaction. ‘She must be caught in her thoughts,’ he mused, a small smile gracing his face. He addressed her again without success and decided to approach her closely. His steps were extremely quiet. Without thinking any further, he tapped her clothed shoulder lightly.

Unbeknownst to him, approaching a trained Samurai’s daughter from behind was a grave mistake. Sakura’s reflexes were different from most women in Europe. While English ladies would turn around with a startled and blushing expression, daughters of Samurais would act less softly. Within a second, the Japanese took a hold of his hand and threw his body over her shoulder, on the floor.

It was complete shock that dominated his body, before pain rushed through his right foot. Sakura on the other hand stood panic-stricken beside him, her hands closing her gaping mouth before sitting herself next to him.

“Oh good Lord, I am so sorry,” she blurted, helping him stand up. “It was not my intention… I-I did not notice you a-and y-you startled me.”

The female fought for words, desperately trying to justify her actions. She steadied his frozen form with her own body. His stiffness in his body increased; it was not only due to pain in his foot but the occurrence of her throwing him across the room and her proximity. It was completely improper but she did not notice; the poor woman was too horrified by her own actions to realise her lack of following the Victorian social rules. ‘How in God’s name had she gained so much strength?’ the astonished man asked himself. It was beyond his knowledge. Sakura did not notice his intense stare as she kept apologising with horrified eyes. “C-Can you stand on your own?” she asked, looking at him with worry.

He blinked, realising that she spoke to him. “I-I am not certain,” he answered.

Alfred, Yao, Ludwig and Gilbert (who had once again visited the Kirkland household during the early hours) entered the room immediately, facing the odd occurrence. While the American took care of Arthur’s foot, Yao had a short discussion with his Goddaughter, telling her that such behaviour towards the host was not acceptable. Gilbert stood in the middle of the room, reflecting on how she had succeeded in hurting the man with one move. She barely reached the British man’s shoulder.

“Mr Kirkland wanted to teach me some dancing steps, I-I,” Sakura’s voice ceased at the end, she was still too shocked over her reaction and how insulting it must have been for Arthur to witness such a situation. The addressed Gentleman did not need to analyse his foot, he was aware of the consequence of this injury; he would not be able to teach her any steps at all today and walking alone was anguish enough. Fortunately, for Sakura, Ludwig suggested to teach her instead. Everyone in the room was relieved to have him propose an alternative for the original plan.

 

While they were dancing, Ludwig interrupted the activity every few minutes to correct her feet and spins.

Arthur was sulking in the seating next to his cousin at the back of the room.

“Hey, is everything all right?”

Alfred eyed his cousin whose crossing arms were signalling his current mood. His face was wearing a frown, whilst Sakura was instructed by Ludwig. “Yes,” Arthur muttered glaring at his bandaged foot.

The Englishman could not fathom why his luck was betraying him. He watched the couple in front of him; their dancing was accompanied with smiles and small laughter. His eyes focused back on the cause of his dilemma: his foot. How could it have come to this?

 

“Sir?”

Arthur looked up, seeing his butler in front of him.

“You summoned me?”

“Yes, indeed. The younger Mr Beilschmidt wishes to talk to Miss Héderváry,” he ordered quietly, “please go and fetch her.”

It was meant to be a silent command but the oldest Beilschmidt heard it nonetheless. For hours he had waited to glimpse at the female cook. He knew that it was improper for her to stay in the same room as them (due to her rank). The Prussian assumed that Arthur wanted to avoid their encounter because of the hatred she felt towards him. It had made him feel a little nervous. Never before did a female dislike him as greatly as she did. Ludwig wanted to be certain if his older brother had apologised to the young woman. As Gilbert had confirmed that information, he had still considered to ask her personally. “I will give her permission to hit you, if you attempt to annoy her again,” the youngest brother had asserted.

 

The butler left the room after Arthur’s order and was followed by Gilbert. Despite the urge to use the servant’s staircase, Gilbert decided to wait in front of the room he had just exited and left the door ajar.

 

“The Master wishes to talk to you.”

Elizabeta stared at the man in front of her; she was in the middle of cooking the dishes for the family when he had told her to come upstairs. The flour she had used was on her clothes, hair and partly on her face. She was not prepared to face her employee whom she had disappointed days ago. Although he had accepted her apology – after the odd scene with Mr Beilschmidt which she still did not fully understand – she did not dare to oppose his orders.

“But I am in the middle of . . . ,” She stopped, seeing the man’s face growing sterner. “I will be there immediately.”

Apparently, it was a matter of emergency; otherwise the butler would have ordered her to clean herself off. Unfortunately, the servants did not know that Arthur’s current way of speaking was the result of being jealous and envious of a certain German man. They all mistook it for an important order.

Walking slowly to the room she was supposed to present herself, Elizabeta’s thoughts were racing. ‘What will await me?’

Upon arriving in the hall, the Hungarian heard laughter and stepping noises. She stopped abruptly as the view of the room confronted her. The door was open and a dancing couple was occupying the room. It was a wonderful sight.

Since she was a child, the brunette had wished to learn dancing steps; the harmony between two dancing persons was something she admired. Growing up in a poor household with no father, she had no time to acquire such skills. Therefore she involuntarily moved her feet and mimicked the pair’s moves. Her attempt to memorise the steps was a little poor but nonetheless she smiled, happy to have this small moment for herself. However, someone was watching her from the side, astonished by her actions.

Gilbert Beilschmidt had officially declared to himself that Elizabeta was the most beautiful woman in the world. He had chuckled to himself as his eyes had caught her form; completely dipped in flour. When he had finally decided to approach her quietly, the female had begun to dance – thinking no one saw her – and smiled during the process. It was the first time he had seen her smiling. How it had affected his body and mind was left unnoticed by the Hungarian. The man’s face mirrored hers, a gentle smile gracing his visage; his heart accelerating his pulse. His feet took him to her and he offered her a hand; an invitation to dance with him.

Elizabeta’s eyes widened upon seeing the general; her movement stopped. “M-Mr B-Beilschmidt,” she stuttered shyly before changing her tone. He was smiling down at her and it unnerved her greatly. The arrogant man had seen her in a private moment. “What are you doing here?” She demanded while she was whipping the flour off her clothes and hair.

“I am sorry, but I could not ignore the way you danced in front of me.”

His smirk was upsetting her; was he trying to flutter her? Elizabeta’s demanding tone had disturbed the atmosphere in the drawing room, causing the party – except for Arthur who could not be moved due to his injury – to enter the hall.

“Gilbert!”

Ludwig glared at his brother and took his hand, squeezing it lightly. It was a warning for the white-haired general. “Brother, don’t worry I did not hurt her in any kind,” he muttered, his eyes focussed on Elizabeta who eyed the floor.

“I apologise for my brother’s behaviour,” Ludwig announced politely.

The Hungarian’s eyes met his. She knew he was gentler than his brother. Both were extremely different considering the fact that they were related.

The brunette spoke softly with him while Gilbert stood in the background, scowling at the two, feeling completely ignored.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: I had this scene in my head. Sakura being badass (involuntary) and Arthur witnessing her power :’D. I don’t know why but he is always being embarrassed when I write this pairing :’D I am so sorry Iggy :D. Oh God, this whole chapter is improper and scandalous if one would follow the Victorian rules strictly xD. I hope the chapter is okay, I felt as if my English skills are in vacation and I am here at home :’D completely at loss for words xD)


	7. 7

It was a wonderful morning as Elizabeta decided to venture through the gardens. For days, heavy rain had poured down in the most brutal manner Britain could offer. The blooming flowers had caught her attention for days and now the female had time to observe them closely in the dry environment. She had left some minutes for herself before Miss Marguerite would plan the supper with her.

She quickly returned when she heard noises in the kitchen. It was strange; the other servants had long left the kitchen after they had finished their meals. Elizabeta had eaten before the other maids had. The female did not consider herself above others – unlike a certain Prussian – but preferred to eat her food alone. Surprisingly, no one was present, as she entered the room.

“Where is that noise coming from?” She muttered to herself before hearing another sound. It came from the hall and the brunette was unsure to walk towards the small ruckus. Maybe it was one of the servants; although they knew better than to created noises. Since the incident with Gilbert Beilschmidt, the woman had been hesitant to leave the servants’ quarters. Not that she was intimidated by the odd Prussian man – she thought him extremely annoying and for some days he had been very present in the Kirkland mansion; He was practically following her but Elizabeta decided that her imagination was exaggerating. A respectable General could not be obsessed with a mere servant, could he? ‘He wants to irritate me,’ she concluded. She ascended the servant’s stairs to the hall, watching if one member of the family was present. None was, and the woman felt more at ease. After the Prussian General had apologised days ago, Elizabeta avoided him and the main rooms in the mansion – she did not want to take any risks and she was not allowed to enter them without reason. The moment from three days ago, when he was awkwardly asking her to dance with him while she was tainted with flour, was strange. She was certain that the man was mocking her, especially when the younger Mr Beilschmidt approached them and apologised on his older brother’s account. In her eyes, the blonde German was agreeable and had exquisite manners. The complete opposite of the white-haired arrogant General.

“Good morning, Miss Elizabeta Héderváry.”

She did not need to turn around; the voice was too familiar; it had haunted her since he had entered the house one week ago. ,Oh no,’ she thought, spinning around; her non-verbal communication signalling her defensive frame after she quickly bowed – she did not forget the rules of the etiquette. “Mr Beilschmidt,” she acknowledged sternly. The man stood in front of her, one hand supporting his body on the wall while his other held a bouquet of flowers. ‘Why in God’s name is he always in the possession of bouquets?’ the female asked herself. To say she was happy about this occurrence was an understatement, to be faced with a man who positioned himself in the room as if he was ruling the world while his smirk suggested his increasing arrogance, was too much to bear for the Hungarian. The day was far too early for such sights. “If you would please excuse me, I must tend to my duties.”

Gilbert had waited days to see her – both he and Ludwig had decided to stay some days as visitors in the Kirkland mansion after the weather had prevented them to return to their summerhouse. Since the occurrence, where his brother had interrupted them, the man had been nervous and worried. He did not show it openly, of course, the General had to uphold a reputation after all – not to mention that he despised to express his true feelings and women in his circle of acquaintances liked strong and confidant men. Nonetheless he was content to have seen her this morning. The Prussian had to admit that he was smitten by her and tried his utmost to win her. But seeing her turning around to avoid him was unnerving him. The flowers in his hand were for her after all. “W-Wait, Miss, these are for you.”

Elizabeta stopped dead in her tracks when he was offering her the bouquet. Again. “Thank you, but I must decline.”

The general stared at her, his hand outstretched. It started to shake and Gilbert grew a little annoying by her rejections. “Excuse me. You can’t deny them. I have bought them for you.” Her brows shot up and he rethought his words. Before he could say anything else, Elizabeta spoke harshly. “Why are you mocking me? It’s highly improper to offer flowers to a woman who is supposed to cook your food. I know to prefer to irritate me. Please stop with your offending actions.”

Gilbert’s frown deepened; he did not understand why she thought he would ridicule her in the most improper manner. She misunderstood his intentions completely. Although for most people in possession of a high rank, Gilbert’s behaviour was odd. For servants it was an uncommon circumstance. “I-I apologise, I did mean to hurt you, but you misunderstood,” he muttered, stepping towards the woman who did not approve his nearing form. “Gilbert?”

Elizabeta was glad to hear Ludwig’s voice; the blonde man had just entered the hall when he saw the cook with his brother. He held a letter in his hand which his valet had brought him minutes ago. “What are you doing?” He questioned his oldest sibling with a raised eyebrow. The addressed man remained silent.

“I hope he did not upset you,” Ludwig apologised sincerely, seeing the flowers in his brother’s hand. Elizabeta replied with a shake of her head, “I am sorry but I need to prepare food.” With that, the female disappeared in the servant’s stairway.

“Brother. . . You are annoying her and she does not feel comfortable. In addition to that you cannot stop her from performing her duties.”

Gilbert glared at his brother before masking his disappointment with his usual arrogant smile. “Most women would be content to be in my company,” he laughed. Ludwig shook his head; his movement accompanied with a loud sigh, before going back to the drawing room. It was early and the servants were beginning to clean the house; they were a little baffled as they had sighted the siblings. Being used to wake early in order to train was an uncommon situation in the Kirkland house; but for the brothers, it was normal. Especially Ludwig disliked staying late in bed. Plus the Prussian hoped seeing Elizabeta in the early hours of the day, which caused his energy to increase at seven o’clock than any other day before. He was aware of her hate towards him but he refused to acknowledge it.

“She befriended Miss Honda,” he announced quietly, “I must talk to her.”

He planned to approach the Japanese in order to receive information of Elizabeta. It was not only for that purpose that he wanted to have a conversation with her; he liked the company of the Asian woman.

As opposed to Gilbert’s intention of approaching Elizabeta as often as possible, Sakura wanted to avoid the person she had hurt by her action. Although the man could walk properly again, she felt as if Mr Kirkland was disapproving her more as the days before. After the youngest Beilschmidt brother had helped her with her dancing steps, the English man had frowned all evening. She had noticed his change in his mood and suspected that she was the cause of his unsettlement. Since then, the Japanese had been more silent towards him than before. Of course the female had apologised several times and it was the only topic she and the British man had shared. Ludwig had offered to dance with her on his upcoming ball. Without hesitation, the petite woman had agreed. She found a reliable confident in the blonde German and was glad to address him as a friend. In spite of his brother’s extraordinary antics, she also felt a connection to Gilbert; he was gentle towards her and complimented her talent for martial arts which flustered her greatly but her smile showed her pride and appreciation.

As if luck was on his side, Alfred suggested the idea of taking a walk. After staying in the house for days, the American appreciated the sunlight and fresh air. Typically English weather was not his most favourite one. The afternoon was therefore spent with a walk through the park.

During their stroll, Sakura walked next to her uncle. After some minutes, Alfred joined them in order to strike a conversation with Sakura’s uncle, while she avoided a certain English man whose eyes were observing her intensively. Why he was watching her in such a manner was a question she did not dare to ask. Sakura was certain that every step was reminding him of his once injured foot. It must have caused him to dislike more of her than she could imagine. It troubled her to assume such things; however she could not explain his frowning expression, intense stares and his temper – although the latter was often directed towards Mr Jones. It had all began the day she had injured him.

The Japanese was too clouded by her unsettled mind, to notice that Arthur had paced next to her. After his cousin had decided to converse with her uncle, the British man took advantage of this situation and approached the petite female. For days she had avoided him – apart from her apologies – and it confounded him more than he cared to admit. He missed talking to her but he could not deny that he was envious of Ludwig Beilschmidt. The German had spent a lot of his free time with her; they shared laughter during her dancing lessons, dined in company. For most people this was a friendly acquaintanceship but for someone like Arthur, who tended to have a proclivity for jealousy, it was a disaster – She had even promised Ludwig a dance. He wanted to be the one who taught her dancing. Although he had made the experience with her martial arts technics at first hand, he was not upset with her. Not at all. The man was more offended by her attempt of ignoring him; was he such an ill-tempered host?

“Miss Honda?” Arthur asked extremely softly, avoiding frightening her.

Sakura was startled when he had called her; her worries were claiming her thoughts. “Y-Yes?” the woman replied, waiting some seconds before looking into his soft eyes.

“Are you feeling unwell?” He had never been unkind towards her and always asked after her health. If it was out of politeness or worry, she did not exactly know; she assumed the former because the latter seemed to be mostly uncommon for her. “N-no, I am all right.”

This answer did not satisfy him but he did not want to force her on telling him her feelings. She stopped in her tracks, causing him to mimic her actions. “I hope you are not too affronted by the occurrence from three days ago,” she murmured, her eyes facing the ground. “I am aware of how improper it was; such disagreeable behaviour. I must have shocked you deeply.”

“At first I was astonished, but not in a negative manner,” he admitted quietly, “You should not blame yourself on my account. It was an accident and I am not affronted.” Arthur smiled after his last sentence. ‘So that was the reason. She was afraid of upsetting me,’ he thought. Her eyes gazed into his after his statement. While he wore a gentle smile, she blushed and Arthur had to admit that he could never be angry with her; his heart forbad it. “It’s all forgiven, although there was never a reason to forgive,” he added. After clearing the misunderstanding, his nerves were at ease, just like hers.

Before Sakura continued her walking, he offered her his arm. She accepted it with a gentle smile. Both were comfortable during the conversation. It was becoming a natural feeling for both to be in that position; in each other’s company.

Unbeknownst to the couple, Alfred observed them with Yao, approving this development. The American had become worried after witnessing Arthur’s temper for days. It was crystal clear that the British Gentleman was attached to Sakura. It was calming Alfred to know that she too was comfortable in his cousin’s company.

 

“What did you say?” Gilbert asked his brother as the two were following their party in the park. Ludwig sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Cousin Roderich wants to pay a visit. He will arrive in some days. He had written a letter which my valet brought me this morning when you were occupied with your new occupation of annoying Miss Héderváry.”

“I-I was not bothering her,” he whispered harshly before raising his voice, “But when cousin Roderich comes, it will be boring.”

Before the youngest of them could defend the Austrian cousin, Gilbert rushed towards his friend – who seemed extremely impatient upon seeing the Prussian interrupt his and Sakura’s conversation – claiming to have an important question for Sakura. He still had to ask her about Elizabeta’s interests.

His commitment to win the Hungarian’s heart was exhausting – but his closest friends seemed to be more tired by it than Gilbert himself. “May I?” he then inquired, offering the Japanese an arm, before presenting her to his most important topic: Miss Elizabeta Héderváry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: Gilbert’s attempt to win Lizzie’s heart goes into the next round :D and Iggy is jealous :3 (I live for Iggy’s jealousy xD). Next chapter will contain Austria :D; It will be very … exhausting for Prussia xD.]


	8. 8

“I hope my request is not too bold?”

Sakura laid her eyes on the Prussian who gently had taken her arm as they were walking in the park. Seconds ago, he had inquired if the Japanese could offer him any hints of after Elizabeta’s interests; although he had formed the words in a less personal approach. Not only was the man fascinated by the Hungarian; he was completely besotted. Sakura had noticed his nervous laughter and grin whenever the object of his love was mentioned; His arrogant smile hid his emotions and true intentions. The Japanese had thought about telling Elizabeta about her Prussian admirer but decided against it. The brunette’s hatred against Mr Beilschmidt had been officially stated days ago, when Elizabeta had told Sakura about the odd scene in which the white-haired man had offered her flowers in the halls. “He waited at the servant’s staircase. In a house that is not his,” Elizabeta had exclaimed with a huff. “Such an odious and insulting man.”

And now the _odious and insulting_ man was strolling besides Sakura, asking questions about a female who loathed him. The petite woman’s sight wandered to the walking path, “No, it is not too bold but what do you expect of my information?”

“I am curious,” Gilbert spoke quietly, not explaining his hopes for gaining any disclosing details about Miss Elizabeta Héderváry. Sakura hid her small smile; Mr Beilschmidt’s statement about curiosity was not a lie. “She loves singing and cooking, but she is mostly interested in nature.”

Sakura smiled, remembering Elizabeta’s happy expression when she had told her of her childhood. “Her love for the forest in her homeland Hungary is undeniable.”

“H-Hungary?” Gilbert asked in wonder. “I never thought about her family name. . . Of course it is Hungarian,” he admitted and somehow this mere information enchanted him. Gilbert knew that some Hungarians were able to speak his language due to the Austrian Empire.

“Yes, she fled from her home when the revolutions started.”

Hearing such things angered the Prussian. “Her Family?”

As Sakura refused to answer him instantly, Gilbert knew about their fate. Her beloved family must had died in the clash of the revolutions in the Austrian Empire. Considering the context of this talk, Gilbert thought about the Empire and the first person who came into his mind was his cousin, Roderich. His conversation partner noticed the new tense atmosphere for a second before the calamity returned. “I understand,” Gilbert muttered, cursing himself internally for blaming his cousin who was uninvolved in those bloody revolutions. He was not on good terms with his Austrian family member, but to reproach him for these events was too ridiculous. The Prussian’s emotion had turned into anger upon hearing of Elizabeta’s fate; and he did not know where to put these new feelings. He wanted to protect her from any harm.

“Aren’t these flowers wonderful?” Sakura commented, hoping to change the topic and the frown on Gilbert’s face. He nodded, pretended to have changed his clouded thoughts.

 

“I hope he is not distressing her,” Ludwig confessed to Arthur, who walked next to him. The British man held the same hopes but was more irritated by this new development. While he was striking a conversation with Sakura, Gilbert had interrupted them and in the end Arthur was left with the younger German of whom he suspected to be attached to the Japanese woman in front of them. He never assumed his emotions to change quickly within seconds. It depended on his company and at this very moment, he disapproved the blonde man next to him. Of course he did not hate him, but the mere suspicion that Ludwig Beilschmidt was intending to court Sakura, was causing Arthur’s blood to boil. Some misunderstandings had already disrupted their – in Arthur’s opinion – pure and harmonic bond. He would never admit that the Japanese had softened his heart – even captured it without her knowledge – and the man was uncertain about her thoughts of him. Daring to confront her about it did not cross his mind. He felt far too frightened to have his heart broken; not that he would confess such things to anyone. It was still incomprehensible for himself to have fallen in love with someone he had only known for three weeks. But he could not prevent his heart to accelerate whenever he was staring into those beautiful brown eyes.

“Fortunately, Miss Honda is capable of handling your brother,” Arthur assured with a straight face.

The German’s stern face remained the same, although the end of his mouth formed a small smile. “Indeed, he could not make her feel unwell with his presence.”

This answer was not particularly addressed to Sakura, but to Gilbert. He reflected on every person who had encountered his brother. Most of the women were setting their cap on him, not because of their interest for his character but of his rank and money. Some admitted that he was a handsome man despite his odd looks; nonetheless those females did not have the patience to create a real attachment. Only a few females of their social circle had the ability to socialise with Gilbert: Miss Honda and Miss Héderváry – although the two had no rank. While the former was on good terms with the man, Elizabeta was rejecting him in every situation. Normally the latter occurrence was insulting for every eligible man, but Ludwig knew, his brother was helplessly smitten by her. She was challenging him; something no woman had ever dared to do. Elizabeta was a headstrong woman who was self-confidant and had faced a lot of hardships – especially Gilbert, who could be considered as a ‘hardship’ in her life. Ludwig’s small smile widened a little; he liked the idea of Elizabeta demonstrating Gilbert that he could not expect life to fall in his hands as he would like. And no one would predict how accurate this would be in the next few months.

Arthur on the other hand misinterpreted this gesture. Ludiwg’s smile was unsettling him greatly. He moved his hands nervously and followed the German’s gaze. The Englishman’s eyebrows knitted in a deep frown; he did not like this development.

“Say, Mr Kirkland, I received a letter from my Austrian cousin Mr Edelstein. He will arrive in some days at his summerhouse and intends to visit me and my brother,” Ludwig mentioned after minutes of silence.

Arthur had only met him once; it was years ago and he knew that Mr Edelstein and the oldest Mr Beilschmidt had a conflicted relationship. Nonetheless he would not oppose the idea of inviting him. Gilbert would invite the Austrian and Ludwig would be one of the only persons who would talk to him; leaving Arthur to tend to his other guests – or one certain female guest in his house. Indeed, his intentions were not his truest in this situation. Mr Arthur Kirkland was rather jealous and possessive – as Alfred had often noted – and if he had the chance to avoid any closer attachment between the German and Sakura, he would take it.

“I shall invite him when he has settled in. Meeting him again would be a pleasure,” the British man replied with a hidden smirk.

 

Hours had passed, the supper had been served and the Beilschmidt siblings had taken their leave. After spending several days in the mansion, the two had decided to go back to their summerhouse. Although Gilbert was not denying his wish to stay longer – everyone knew his real intentions of this suggestion – Ludwig refused to rely on Arthur’s kindness any longer. They had agreed of meeting again; the host would invite the brothers and Mr Edelstein to his mansion. To Gilbert’s chagrin, he had not word in that matter; he had not expected Mr Kirkland to invite his cousin.

 

It was later that evening, as Arthur Kirkland was observing the dark sky from his office’s window, thinking about the latest event and its outcome. To say that the man was surprised by his own state of emotions was an understatement. Ludwig Beilschmidt and Miss Honda haunted his mind. “How could it have come to this?” he asked himself in wonder, a frown gracing his face. He should have gone to bed minutes ago but could not think clearly. “If she has already such control over me . . . ,” he concluded silently before a sigh escaped his lips.

“Unbelievable . . . I’ve attended several balls, attended more than six London seasons without finding an acceptable wife,” he whispered, ”And with my return two weeks ago, I find waiting at the back door, as if she would belong to the house and nowhere else.”

He felt his cheeks heating up, having spoken this confession out loud. “God Gracious, what has occurred . . .”

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts and the man answered it immediately – the servants had already gone to bed. His cousin stood in front of him, a questioning expression adorning his face. “Oh I thought I’d seen light and heard voices,” Alfred commented, watching the British man. “Why are you still up, Iggy?”

“Stop with that name.”

Ignoring his cousin’s pleads, the American continued his inquiries. “You look troubled; what is the reason of your restlessness?”

“For God’s sake, Alfred, I am neither restless nor troubled.”

“Your face tells a different story,” Alfred pointed to Arthur’s – now clearly adorned with a scowl – visage, underlining his recent observations.

Arthur inhaled, showing how he was trying to calm his nerves, “It is nothing of great importance.”

“I don’t believe you,” the American asserted, “I’ve known you for decades. . . Something is obviously on your mind.”

The green-eyed Gentleman retreated to his office, blew out the candles before exiting his room and closing the door. Those actions were accompanied with silence.

“Since that incidence your foot, your temper has quite increased. Not to mention your mood swings . . . What could it be? After Miss Honda had injured your foot, it –” Alfred stopped abruptly, analysing Arthur’s thoughts. ‘Of course it is Miss Honda who is on his mind, but what had caused him to sulk . . . ?’ Alfred reflected. He tried to imagine the last few moments betwee the two of them; there were none, because they had always been interrupted. Especially Ludwig Beilschmidt had taken every single occasion to engage with the Japanese; even dancing had been a shared activity of the two. Suddenly, the American was aware of Arthur’s trouble.

“Oh dear Lord, you are jealous.”

Upon hearing Alfred’s loud voice, the addressed Gentleman cringed. It was far too loud in the mid of the night and the content of that statement was far too honest to be uttered in the house where everyone could be woken up by it – especially those who Arthur did not want to listen to such a topic. “What?”

“Oh, don’t be so dense dear cousin, you know what I am talking about.”

“I don’t,” Arthur lied; his face showing all signs of lying and embarrassment.

Alfred smiled, a feeling of victory ran through his body, “you are jealous of Mr Ludwig Beilschmidt.”

The English stopped dead in his tracks; his fists clenched at the sides of his frozen body. “Are you foxed?” he replied angrily. “I am not jealous. Why would I?”

The denying was crystal clear but Arthur refused to admit that to his cousin.

“You can’t tell me to acknowledge your blatant lie.”

Arthur rushed to his room without answering him until he was opening his chamber’s door. “There is absolutely no reason to be jealous!”

Alfred watched his cousin’s disappearing with a sigh, before forming a smile, “Iggy, you are doomed and you have no idea.”

 

Indeed the host of the manor had no idea what would face him in the near future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: Iggy is quite obsessed with the idea of Germany and Japan being in a romantic relationship xD]


	9. 9

“I am very much obliged to you,” Roderich Edelstein spoke loudly, while shaking Arthur’s hand. Almost a week had gone by, and the Austrian aristocrat had accepted the invitation to visit the Englishman’s manor. Mr Edelstein had a very elegant stature, although Sakura thought he was a little arrogant. ‘It does not matter,’ she thought, ‘members of royalty tend to look arrogant.’  

Minutes afterwards, she was to be introduced to the new visitor and despite her former reflecting, he was extremely gentle to her. His arrogance had ceased when they greeted each other. Upon hearing a displeasing snort in the room – form no other than Mr Gilbert Beilschmidt – Sakura felt the Austrian’s air changing. He grew tenser and created his usual mask of coldness.

“Gilbert . . . ,” Roderich muttered. He had been mentally preparing himself for facing his cousin, but seeing him in the corner of the room, was unnerving him. The white-haired man demonstrated his arrogance with his strange seating position. It was not how a gentleman was supposed to sit in a chair. While one leg was placed over the chair arm, his other hand steadied his titled head. This display of arrogance and power was an exaggerating attempt to unsettle Roderich.

The Austrian’s eyes wandered to Ludwig, who sat next to his brother, his head in his hands. The poor man was completely embarrassed.

“Indeed, cousin,” Gilbert snorted, before walking to his Austrian family member.

“Gilbert, you are a guest, behave!” Roderich hissed, glancing to Sakura; he was afraid to vex her by his tone. He had arrived minutes ago and his cousin was already provoking him. Sakura on the other hand looked at Ludwig who stared at her with a desperate look. With a light shake, he signalled her that this kind of greeting between Gilbert and Roderich was normal. It was still obvious how it affected Ludwig.

“I apologise for this odd occurrence, Miss Honda,” Arthur reassured her. He had witnessed her face; her questioning eyes – and her glancing towards the German on the seat.  “The two have not the most lovable acquaintanceship one would wish for.”

“Oh,” she responded quietly, turning around to face his conversation partner. “That is very inconvenient indeed. I hope their relationship will improve.”

Although it was not a funny topic, the man in front of her smiled. It was not only the comical imagination of Gilbert and Roderich who would have a delightful conversation but having the opportunity to stand close to Sakura was pleasing him. It had been almost a month since she and her uncle had been in his house and he was still having troubles to accept the latest discoveries of his emotions considering the petite Japanese. At the beginning he was conflicted with himself, but after seeing her and the youngest Mr Beilschmidt’s friendly attachment, Arthur had come to the conclusion that he would not approve if these two would engage too much in their leisure time. Alfred had been bold enough to confront the British man last time in his office. Being called jealous had hit a nerve and Arthur had avoided this conversation with his cousin as much as possible. He knew that Alfred could read him, but he was not aware that his temper and odd behaviour was obvious to everyone; except for Sakura who did not read his emotions in connection with her.

The couple observed the two loud men until the upper-servant knocked on the door. The meal was to be served and the party walked to the dining room; where Gilbert’s and Roderich’s _interesting_ conversation continued. Yao had already glanced at the German-speaking men and did not comprehend why they were discussing in such a loud manner. The Chinese had always found that western people were strange.

“Oh, Mr Edelstein I am not aware if Mr Beilschmidt has already told you, but my cook has prepared an exquisite lunch,” Arthur informed Roderich who sat across from him.

“Indeed, he has told me – ”

“Mr Kirkland’s cook always has an eye for exquisite food,” Gilbert spoke arrogantly, earning strange looks from the other guests.

“Dear cousin, your brother told me otherwise,” Roderich retorted, “Last time you were making a fool out of yourself by claiming that the food was insufferable.”

The addressed man blushed, but laughed loudly to hide his flustered expression. “Oh at that time, I was only . . . jesting, yes, exactly, jesting.”

Ludwig’s forehead was supported by his hand. Again. The young German was speechless, his older brother was blatantly lying and every present in the dining room was aware of it. The only one who questioned his claim was cousin Roderich.

“Apparently, she did not like your _jesting_ and your blunt attempt of insulting her is so ungentlemanly,” he then formed a small – and rare – smile, “But she answered your comments with dripping food in your face.”

Gilbert stared at him with a red visage before focussing his sight on his younger brother. “ _Bruder, du hast es ihm erzählt?!”_

Before he could reply, Roderich proceeded his talking, “I do not approve such behaviour from a servant, but in your case, she shall be forgiven. You are such an exhausting man.”

The Prussian ignored the conversation and continued glaring at his brother.

“I mentioned it in the letter . . . but your escapades are infamous. That you must certainly admit,” Ludwig muttered, hoping to finally start eating.

As if his opinion about European people had been confirmed, Yao diverted his attention to his food. Those German and Austrian people were indeed very strange. After seconds, he eyed his Goddaughter who was just as silent as him. She – instead of eating – was glancing at the host of the mansion. For weeks, Yao had made these observations; she and Mr Kirkland would often exchange looks. It was clear that the two were fond of each other. Although Yao had hoped for her to find an agreeable and fortunate husband; he had not considered the English Gentleman to be the one to court her. Mr Kirkland had not made his intentions official, but Yao and his trading partner were certain that he would sooner or later express that wish if he was not confronted with a rival who would have the same intentions. Unfortunately, this glancing-stealing activity between the two would last a little bit longer than expected before any official engagement could be presented to the public.

 

Gilbert remained calm the entire noon; he was a little upset to have been – as he called it – betrayed by his brother. In addition to that, his cousin was present and that alone was annoying him greatly. He had not seen _her_ for days; he had only had the pleasure of eating her food. His mood worsened as his brother mentioned to their host that cousin Roderich was a piano virtuoso, causing Mr Kirkland to ask him to play for them.

 

As Mr Edelstein had begun his playing, Arthur had taken the opportunity, to ask Miss Honda to dance a Waltz with him. The man was extremely happy as she accepted without a second thought; He showed this emotion with a proud look on his visage.

“Excuse me, if I step on your feet,” she apologised softly, looking at his foot she had injured a week ago. The blonde Gentleman was a little puzzled by her words, because she danced very well for someone who has only acquired the steps a week ago.

“But Miss Honda, your dancing skills are marvellous.”

He could not deny that he was fairly enjoying this occasional dance. Her gloved hand held his, while his other hand placed above her waist, steading her body. Although there was a certain distance between the two due to Victorian etiquette, Arthur was delighted by the feeling of holding her close to him. For minutes they moved around the room, lost in each other’s eyes, until the chanson ended.

“Thank you for the dance. I am very glad to have learned the steps,” she commented with a smile causing the British man to form the same expression she wore. “Without Mr Beilschmidt, I would not have been able to do so.”

At the mention of the German, Arthur’s eye twitched lightly, before hiding his emotions again. “Indeed.”

 

Sakura noticed his sudden change but decided to not question him. “Oh, I have a question considering my dancing partners,” she began, “Am I allowed to decline if I don’t know the gentleman who wishes to dance with me?”

Arthur gasped slightly, _how could he have forgotten?_

“Yes,” he informed her, before explaining the rules in attending a ball. “No gentleman is allowed to approach you who has not been properly introduced by a mutual friend or acquaintance.”

She nodded, understanding his words, before he proceeded to further explain the etiquette, “The Ladies receive a dance card from the host of the ball on which they write the names of the men who had asked them to dance. There are different types of dances listed on the card under which you write the name of the man you have accepted as the next dancing partner. You cannot decline unless you have already accepted another gentleman’s invitation to dance.”

One important rule was left to tell her, and for Arthur it was an advantageous one. He was the one that would escort her – along with the other family members – and therefore had the honour to have the first dance with her.

“The first set is to be danced with the gentleman who accompanied the Lady,” he affirmed, looking intensely at the blushing Sakura.

 

The Japanese watched the man in front of her as he told her the social rules of Victorian balls. His eyes were sparkling with excitement – unknown to her, the man was extremely delighted to attend the ball with her – causing the young woman to smile at him. The dance minutes ago had been a beautiful experience and she was feeling light-hearted. For days, she had admited that she had grown extremely fond of the British man, although she was certain that his heart belonged to Miss Bonnefoy. She did not know how wrong this thought was; because she was the one that was in the possession of said Gentleman’s heart.

 

Alfred observed the couple once again, thinking that if a stranger would enter the room, they would be certain that his cousin and Miss Honda were courting; their exchanging looks were speaking more than thousand words. For him it was a comforting sight, his English cousin finally in the presence of a woman that shared his interests and feelings. After minutes of watching them, Alfred could not prevent himself from forming thoughts about his future. ‘Will I ever find someone that will capture my heart?’ he asked himself, before standing up.

“How about we dance together,” Alfred suggested as he approached Arthur and Sakura. “A Quadrille.”

“Oh, that would be a pleasure,” Sakura replied, eager to dance as a group.

“Marguerite, dear,” Alfred called for her, before the four lined up and started the dance.

For Arthur it was a joyful occasion, his family dancing along with Miss Honda, the place where she – in his opinion – belonged to.

 

The only present in the room who was not pleased was the older Mr Beilschmidt. He sat in the corner of the drawing room, completely annoyed by the Austrian’s playing and the dancing couples. Oh how he wished he could ask a certain Hungarian woman to honour him with a dance.

* * *

 

**Translation:**

_Bruder, du hast es ihm erzählt?!_ – Brother, you told him?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: I had to split this chapter, so I will upload the next part tomorrow :D . Fun fact: the first known Japanese person who had emigrated to Europe, was Mitsuko Aoyama and she married an Austrian diplomat in 1892; They met when she helped him when his horse slipped on ice. (source: Wikipedia). So in this story, I decided for Austria and Sakura to be on good terms (I mean in being friends, not courting). I kind of feel sorry for Alfred ;A; . Normally, for every story I write, I want the characters to have a happy ending ;A; (Yes I am very romantic in thinking so, but the real world is curel enough, so at least in my stories, they can find happiness). So maybe I make a sequel about Alfred finding a wife xD. I don't know yet xD]


	10. 10

Hours had passed since the lunch and the party was still very much enjoying themselves – except for the aforementioned Prussian, who was still wearing a frown while sitting in the corner. After the dances, they were having their tea party and Marguerite could not stop her mouth from forming a smile. Days ago, she had contacted the seamstress who had taken care of her and Miss Honda. Although the latter had not found a dress that tempted her enough to buy it; Marguerite had made plans with Elizabeta almost a week ago. Both had agreed to surprise the Japanese with a perfect gown that would flatter her form – in addition to that, they had ordered other dresses. The two women had met the seamstress who still had the measurements of Sakura, to create the clothing. Marguerite stood up eagerly, leaving the room in order to find Elizabeta; she had hidden the dresses and waited for the shy female to call for her.

“I will not accompany you, Miss,” Elizabeta told her, giving Marguerite the box with the dress. “The other boxes will be put in Miss Honda’s room.”

Miss Jones nodded and did not question her cook’s choice of staying far away from the drawing room. Of course she had no time – she was still preparing the rest for supper – but aside from that, her face was showing light annoyance. The Hungarian was aware of the General Gilbert Beilschmidt’s presence and did not want to provoke a scene. She had also been told that another guest from Austria had arrived; a certain Mr Edelstein who was related to the Prussian. Some have already told her that their bound was not very strong and both were having rows every time they met, on meetings, in the street and on social assemblies.

“I understand, you are excused,” Marguerite spoke softly before re-entering the drawing room where the Japanese was engaged in a conversation with Arthur. She shortly told Sakura about her and Elizabeta’s attempt of giving her a present and showed her the box which contained the beautiful dress.

 

Sakura opened the box – after searching Arthur’s eyes for reassuring herself – and was presented with a gorgeous gown. It was a muslin dress coloured in brilliant blue. The seamstress had added some flowers, gloves, a fan and a cloak to complete the outfit. Sakura, at first curious of the box, was now extremely surprised and thankful by their actions.

“Oh my . . . Y-you did not have to do this,” she said softly, touched by her and Elizabeta’s present. “Thank you very much. B-but what is the price of the gown?”

Sakura hated to accept gifts which were expensive; she did not want to burden anyone. Only her Godfather – her lawfully caretaker – was paying for her items.

“Do not worry about it,” Marguerite commented, her small smile indicated her pleasure for making the Japanese feel happy and surprised. She had the feeling that the Asian would stay longer on the English isle than she had anticipated.

Since the beginning of Sakura’s visit, Marguerite had accompanied her as a chaperone and friend; there were several rules which had to be respected woman in that era. Marguerite had spent a lot of time with Sakura and wanted to bring her joy with this present. It would be her gift for the first ball Miss Honda would attend in England. The study of dancing had been accomplished days ago, with the help of the youngest Mr Beilschmidt.

“Oh Sakura, dear, what a fine dress,” her uncle spoke upon seeing how content his niece was.

“Yes, it is a – ” she eyed her friend who nodded as a sign of approval, “a wonderful gift from Miss Jones and Miss Héderváry.” Sakura’s smile widened; she was so delighted to have found such friends as Elizabeta and Marguerite in such a short time.

“Before I forgot, I have ordered other dresses for you.”

That indication caught Sakura’s attention again and her widened expression was not left unnoticed by their other companions. “I already have given orders to the servants to take the rest of them to your room,” Marguerite added.

“O-oh, no I can’t accept such a gracious offer,” Sakura announced, a little shocked by her hospitality. Mr Wang was thinking about the offer as well and was uncertain to accept it; he was capable of paying for his niece’s clothes but he knew this was intended as a friendly offer; they were accepting her fully and that made him smile.

Alfred decided to approach his sister and Miss Honda to encourage Sakura in accepting the dresses; he did not mind paying the bills for them – Marguerite had told him about the surprise and had received approval by her brother.

Before he could open his mouth to word his intention, Arthur exclaimed his opinion on this topic, “P-please accept the present, Miss Honda. You and your uncle are very welcomed.”

The British man had been unaware of his cousins’ plan in buying Sakura’s clothing for the next few balls but appreciated it; she had been utterly astonished by the gentle offer. But the most fortunate occurrence for him was that he had witnessed her great smile. It was as if an invisible lightning had struck him the moment her joy was so openly displayed on her face. Arthur would definitely do everything in his power to see that smile again.

“I-if I cause you no inconvenience,” Sakura answered and witnessed her host’s faint coloured cheeks.

“O-of course not,” he stuttered and received a light punch on his shoulder from his American cousin, whose grin was obviously mocking – or encouraging – him.

Arthur, feeling a little unsettled in front of Sakura – blaming Alfred for is blunt approach – continued his words. “You are o-our guests after all and you had not purchased any dresses two weeks ago. Y-you should feel welcomed in our country.”

He spoke it in an extremely stressed manner due to a memory that was crossing his mind; he was reminded of Alfred’s words from a few days ago about him harbouring feelings for Sakura. He hoped to have not chosen his words too improperly.

“Yes, indeed . . . ,” she muttered, feeling slightly insecure but smiled nonetheless, resulting Alfred to express a whispering allusion of Arthur’s feelings towards her. “Oh believe me Miss Honda, it will never be an inconvenience for my cousin to welcome your stay, he is far too fond of your company.”

Arthur’s face turned into a grimace; hearing Alfred talking about his feelings – which he had denied days ago – was angering him. The American had not noticed what exactly he had uttered until he saw the English man’s reaction. “I-I mean all of our guest’s company,” he corrected himself but without success, Arthur’s blood was boiling. Sakura stared at Alfred but did not think too much about those words after hearing that the host was enjoying all of their company. Before the blonde English could defend himself, a call from the servant interrupted them: supper was to be served and every one forgot about the small incident – except for the Arthur himself.

 

After the diner, the Ladies stayed in the drawing room, while Arthur inquired after Alfred in his office. He was fuming by the Americans words.

“What the bloody dickens where you thinking?”

Despite the familiarity of facing an grumbling Arthur, Alfred was rather shocked by this outburst. “What do you mean?”

“Y-Your claim,” he hissed, “in the drawing room.”

The American raised a brow. “Oh . . . that. I had spoken before I thought about my words. It was not on purpose.”

“Of course!” Arthur almost shouted, “You cannot express such poorly chosen words in front of our guests.”

 

 The American sighed loudly, knowing to what this discussion would lead to, if he would approach his cousin again by mentioning Miss Honda. And he decided to just do that, confronting Arthur once again.

“I do apologise, but you must admit that your definition of guests is clearly misplaced,” Alfred countered, seating himself on Arthur’s chair. The last sentence caused the English man’s face to grow redder then before.

“Misplaced?”

“When will you finally admit that Miss Honda is not only a guest,” Alfred affirmed, noticing Arthur’s change in mood. It was his point of weakness. “You are not only upset by my statement but by the fact that you have developed feelings for Miss Honda but can’t admit them.”

Arthur’s jaw clenched; he knew his cousin was right, but he detested the feeling of failing or showing his personal – except for rage or annoyance – emotions. As a man he had always been taught – by his father – that emotions were weakness. After his mother had died, Arthur was left with a father who had no warm spot in his heart for his son. He had never openly showed any emotion. “A man should not have such weakness those feelings,” he had said, “I will marry a woman because I needed to and not because of any emotion”. Someone with his rank had to marry for money, politics or connection and not for love. But now it had happened. . . Arthur was feeling emotions which would display a great weakness, and to admit such defeat was a hurting his pride. Whereas the man was denying his feelings with every word, his body and face were betraying him. It was the first time he had fallen in love causing him to be overwhelmed by these new emotions and Alfred approaching him with this topic – again – caused him to lose his composure. Before rethinking his opinion, he opened his mouth and justified his pathetic attempt to deny everything he felt. Again.

 

“I certainly have not and never will develop any romantic feeling towards her. I will marry a woman from society. Miss Honda and Mr Wang have come as guests because of your invitation,” he harshly spoke, before seating himself on the settee next to the window, “Now leave, and don’t ever mention this to me again.”

“You know, Arthur . . . There will be a moment in your life when your stubbornness will cause you great unhappiness,” Alfred sighed before exiting the room.

He opened the door slowly and almost ran into a petite figure. His jaw dropped; his face wearing an expression of pure horror. It was the wide-eyed Miss Honda that stood in front of him. And he was not certain if she had witness his cousin’s outburst.

“I-I only wanted to give Mr Kirkland my thanks, but I see he is busy,” she stuttered, clearly troubled. “I will thank him tomorrow.” Before bowing to Alfred and leaving the scene.

“Arthur . . . you are such a fool,” Alfred whispered to himself.

 

Since the first day of her visit, Sakura had felt as if she would burden Mr Kirkland. After receiving the gift, she wanted to thank him properly but she had not been prepared with the harsh words she heard when she wanted to knock on her host’s office’s door. Her movement had been stopped the moment she had overheard Mr Kirkland’s annoyed voice. Her light smile had faded immediately. Once again, she was reminded of the situation weeks ago in the tailor shop when the English Ladies had discussed Mr Kirkland’s manners towards guests and Lady Bonnefoy’s intention towards him. ‘How could you have ever believed there was a chance,’ Sakura thought to herself. She had quickly walked away after explaining Alfred about her reasons to visit Arthur’s office. Now she was certain what she would do to fulfil her uncle’s wish of staying in England: She would try to get engaged with other gentlemen on Mr Beilschmidt’s ball. Mr Kirkland was out of question.

 

After his outburst, Arthur looked out of the window, his hand steadying his head. He was thinking about the things he had said to Alfred. Those harsh lies; and he was aware that his cousin had detected him but Arthur knew he had been disillusioned by his angry feelings. As the rightful heir of Stokeford, he had to make certain to marry a Lady of society. But when this was what was expected of him, then why was his heart so conflicted? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: I am sorry :’D this is very horrible of me to do this :’D but you know, for the sake of the plot twist >:D I know I am evil but it needed to be done :’D (my own heart was breaking when I was writing (and overlooking) it *still wearing a sad face*) . It took me some time to post because I wrote the chapter yesterday in the night and was unhappy about it; so I changed some things :3. . I don’t know how long this story will be, probably 20-30 chapters? :3. I decided to give female Canada the family name “Jones”, because she is Alfred’s twin sister after all.]


	11. 11

It was the very next day, as Arthur entered the drawing room. Hours before, everyone had joined together for breakfast, except for one: Miss Honda. He was told that she was feeling unwell and had no appetite at that morning. Although it was the truth – considering the circumstances from last night – which did hurt Miss Honda more than she admitted, Arthur was still worried for her. The man had been thinking about the shy Japanese all night, reminding himself of the harsh choice of words he had used to form his reply when Alfred had confronted him. The American had been honest in his confrontation, because he knew about the real reason of Arthur’s conflicted behaviour.

Silence filled the room as the party was eating. Upon looking at his cousin, Arthur noticed his strange expression. Alfred was sympathising with him and he was not certain what had caused him to do so. ‘Is he still thinking of our last discussion?’ he asked himself, not realising that his mind was filled with the same memory. After some minutes, Alfred asked Yao about his new plans of creating his business in England, leaving his cousin to tend to his thoughts. Sometimes, the room erupted in laughter and voices but Arthur could still feel the unexplainable tension in the dining room.

 

Sakura had decided to stay in her room longer than intended. She had excused her presence with the reason of not feeling any appetite which she concluded could have been caused by last night’s events. The woman had not planned on eavesdropping her host’s and his cousin’s conversation; she had only come with the purpose of thanking Mr Kirkland for his hospitality and agreement on buying her the dresses, her good friends had purchased for her. The moment she had heard his words, was a horrifying experience for her. She did not know why she had already formed any assumptions of spending a lot of time with Mr Kirkland; she was hurt by his choice of words and felt stupid for having dreamed of a future with the man. For weeks she had grown extremely fond of him and had been uncertain if those feelings were reciprocated. Days ago Sakura’s hopes had increased due to their strong relationship. Only yesterday had proved her that it was only friendship – and she was not even sure of it; it seemed as if she would only burden den man.

“How could you even think about such an absurd dream,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head with a sad smile. “Stupid, stupid, foolish girl.”

Nonetheless, the female decided to join the party before lunch was to be served. As she entered the room – with the presence of her personal maid who wanted to make certain that she would arrive the room without feeling ill – all heads turned in her direction. Especially Mr Kirkland’s eyes lingered on her form longer than needed. Of course her uncle approached her immediately to inquire after her health. “I am fine,” she answered with a light smile before sitting on the settee near the window. Before she could decide to read a book or engage her free time with other ladylike activities, Mr Jones joined her to have a conversation. She froze a little, thinking about yesterday where he had clearly seen her shock. He had witnessed her horrible eavesdropping and was aware of her feelings; Alfred had seen her expression . . . he knew, she was certain of it.

Arthur was relieved and content when Sakura had entered the room. Although her eyes had not settled too long on him, he was thankful for the one glimpse she was giving him. One small detail that was not left unnoticed to his observation, were her eyes. They had a distant look and he could not ignore the troubled feeling in his stomach that was increasing every second. Something was wrong. Without thinking twice, the English man walked to her and his cousin and seated himself on a chair next to Alfred and Miss Honda. The two of them were engaged in a whispering conversation; very strange for the American. With a raised brow, Arthur observed their mimics. Alfred’s face was frowning and held a caring look, while Sakura’s face remained neutral. But the English Gentleman could see her eyes. Minutes ago they had been distant, but now he could see the sadness they were bearing. 

“Good morning, Miss Honda,” Arthur greeted with a slight nervous tone, noticing that his cousin was observing him intensely.  “I hope you are feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you Sir,” she answered with a soft but neutral voice, before turning her attention back to Alfred. Now Arthur was certain that something unfortunate must have occurred; she would always wear a small smile when she was engaged in a conversation with him, or wearing a content look while her eyes would search his. But at the moment nothing of these accompanied her movements when she had thanked him for requiring after her health. And that confounded him.

Alfred glinted at his cousin for some seconds after Arthur’s question had interrupted his and Miss Honda’s conversation. After the incident of last night, he felt oblige to tend to the Japanese woman, who he had befriended weeks ago. He was rather angry with his cousin, thinking that he was dim-witted as to not see how much his words had caused pain. But how could he tell Arthur, when the English man had not realised that Miss Honda had stood behind the office door when he had almost shouted such ill-chosen words. The American sighed before focussing back on the black-haired woman next to him.

“Mr Jones, do you know some of the guests that will attend Mr Beilschmidt’s ball?” the Japanese asked, as Mr Edelstein approached the party. The Austrian had been frustrated by his eldest cousin in the room – who was still trying to distract himself by vexing the pianist – and decided to change conversation partners.

“I must admit, no. I have some friends among the attending people,” Alfred mused with a small smile, “but Miss Honda, it is not such a small ball, so there will be a great opportunity to make new acquaintances.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Honda, I will attend too,” Mr Edelstein encouraged, taking his glasses off his face before cleaning it with a tissue. “But I share the same acquaintances as Mr Beilschmidt, therefore I can introduce you to some of the guests.”

Miss Honda’s smile widened a little but did not reach her eyes.

“Although my cousin and I do not have a lot in common, we do enjoy the company of our mutual friends,” Mr Edelstein admitted before placing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. It was then that the oldest Mr Beilschmidt neared the party to disclose some of the mutual acquaintances, he had invited.

“Mr Karpusi will attend, a friend of Roderich and mine,” the Prussian mentioned before addressing Arthur, “he is also a friend of yours and Alfred, if I am not mistaken?”

“Indeed,” Arthur muttered, not approving of this topic of conversation.

“A fine man from Greece,” Alfred smiled, causing Sakura to perk her ears up.

“From Greece you say?” she questioned, her eyes glinting with interest.

Upon hearing her soft and curious voice, Arthur endorsement increased. Although he liked Mr Karpusi, Arthur did not want her to be involved with him more than needed. Not only was it due to his jealous nature that he had a bad feeling about her meeting the Greek, but due to his activities outside the ball rooms. Mr Karpusi was a rake, who enjoyed the company of women and seeing how Miss Honda was interested in being introduced to the brunette Greek man, was angering the British man.

“Yes, a soldier whose father had fought in the war of independence,” the American mentioned.

Arthur felt extremely troubled and decided to change the topic. “Have you already survey the dresses my cousin had chosen for you? I hope she has a good taste in fashion and you are not disappointed?”

Sakura was not prepared for his question; even though it was a simple inquiry after her satisfaction concerning the dresses, the Japanese’s shoulders stiffened greatly. Mr Kirkland was holding her gaze for a short time before she diverted her sight else were. _The dresses_ . . . She had wanted to thank him for the presents yesterday and was faced with his opinion about her. “I love them,” she sounded monotonous, “Thank you, Sir.”

‘There it is again, that word . . . _Sir_ . . . ,’ Arthur thought to himself, ‘Why is she so distant towards me?’ The man had not expected such a neutral reaction. Despite her verbal communication, her body language was signalling him that she felt extremely tense. She almost cringed as he spoke to her. It left him confused and wondered if he the dresses were that hideous.

“Oh Miss Honda, do you plan on staying longer in Greenstoke? It would be lovely to invite you to other balls or other social activities,” The Austrian aristocrat suggested, causing Sakura to give him a gentle smile.

“I would be very honoured, Sir,” she mentioned, “Indeed, my uncle and I plan to settle down in England after his trading company is established near London.”

Now everyone in the room listened to her talking; her uncle and Ludwig Beilschmidt have joined their assembly.

“Oh, then I must introduce you to my other acquaintances,” Mr Edelstein added, “If your uncle wants you to be engaged in a fortunate marriage.”

Sakura’s cheeks coloured heavily and Arthur was left with the thoughts of whom she would choose to marry. It left a bad taste in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: First of all, sorry for not updating yesterday; I had no time, and unfortunately this chapter is split again :’D the other part will include a Pruhun moment, so sorry for not putting it in this part. Yep… I put Greece in the story :D, I think most of you can foresee the next chapters :D *drama baby drama*. Greece (I mean the real country now) was supported by the United Kingdom during the Greek war of independence. The United States recognised Greece as an independent country after the wars and signed many treaties with them. The first modern King of Greece was a Bavarian (who was born in Austria) and Prussia had good relations with Greece since they had become independent. So in this story Iggy, Alfred, Gilbert, Ludwig and Roderich are on good terms with APH Greece :D.]


	12. 12

Sakura was walking next to the youngest Mr Beilschmidt, observing the buildings around them. After lunch was served, Mr Edelstein had expressed his curiosity of visiting the town nearby. The Austrian had explained that he read of the impressive classical architecture in the village. Due to the good weather conditions, the group had decided to take advantage of the sunny atmosphere.

During the walk, the Japanese had given in to the blonde German’s questions of her sad behaviour. He had noticed the rather cold-manner and neutral look on her face; and he was certain that something terrible must have occurred. It was strange enough that the German felt comfortable in her company. Normally, women made him feel nervous and left him speechless. But not with her; she was a dear friend of his and he cared for her enough to ask about her state of emotions. After minutes of silence, she had finally admitted her worries and Ludwig was not surprised that it involved a certain English man who – unbeknownst to them – was observing them from afar with a frown.

Arthur’s pace increased; he wanted to address Miss Honda due to her different behaviour towards him. He knew that she was confiding in the German, as the atmosphere around them was serious. Being a few metres away from the pair, he uttered his request. “Excuse me, Mr Beilschmidt,” the British man spoke gently, “May I speak alone with Miss Honda.”

Upon hearing the English accent interrupting their conversation, Sakura stiffened. She knew that her host will ask to talk to her one day, but she did not expect it to be while Mr Beilschmidt was accompanying her. Her eyes glanced at Mr Kirkland’s green irises before facing the ground again. He in return, cleared his throat and repeated his sentence after he had witnessed her reaction.

“I am sorry . . . , but no,” the German answered sternly, “Miss Honda was in the middle of telling me a private story I wanted to hear.”

Although he remained gentle, the tone of his voice told the English man to not intervene their conversation any further. Ludwig had remarked how tense the Japanese had been when his English friend had approached him. Miss Honda’s grip around his arm had tightened – probably without her taking any notice of it – and the aura around her had changed immediately. All these aspects had motivated Ludwig to deny Arthur’s request.

The gentleman stopped abruptly and nodded speechlessly before the couple proceeded their walking. “What . . . ,” the green-eyed muttered, the frown on his visage growing. His eyes followed them. He returned to his cousin and remained extremely silent. And now he knew that something had happened that must have included him. But she had no wish to talk to him which left him sad and hurt.

 

ᴥ

 

Elizabeta was walking through the village as her eyes perceived the party. Although she was far away from them, the woman decided to purchase the food she needed for tomorrow’s feast. If they would see her, she would admit that she could not talk to Sakura, due time pressure. This was not an honest excuse but as she had noticed the white-haired Prussian she wanted to avoid as much as possible. Meeting the oldest Mr Beilschmidt on the street was not what she had wished for. Her eyes wandered around the group and it was at that moment that her sight caught another figure she still had not met. It was the Austrian pianist, cousin of Mr Beilschmidt, who had been staying at her employer’s house for several days. She had heard his wonderful play. Her eyes remained on his form – longer than she had anticipated – before she proceeded in her duty of buying the needed ingredients. Unbeknownst to her, a certain Prussian general had noticed her light staring and decided to follow her quietly.

Gilbert Beilschmidt could not believe his luck, when he had beheld the Hungarian cook as she was looking at them. ‘She is so beautiful,’ he thought as his eyes fell on the small basket she was holding, ‘and cute.’

He was extremely delighted to see her. For days, he had waited for the opportunity of gazing at her; her gorgeous long hair, bounded in a bun; her breath-taking – literally – forest green eyes. And her face was that of an angel – an angry angel, he concluded. The Hungarian was undaunted by his behaviour and rank. She did not change her position and opinion and faced him with more anger than he had ever seen before – and the man had witnessed a lot of fights when his home country was at war. No one had been as upset as her. If anyone else had dared to throw food at him, Gilbert would have punished that person. But it was only her succeeded in doing it and it had enchanted him. His heart was sold to a woman who will not have him. His blunt staring did not cease until he noticed that she was looking at their party, but not at him. Her eyes focussed on his cousin who was much engaged in a conversation with Mr Wang. Even if it was just a stare from her, it irritated him. The object of his devotion avoided him at all costs but observed the Austrian with a fascinating glint her eyes. “Why?” he slowly hissed. Jealously was controlling his thoughts; Roderich would never look at a servant. The man did seek and favoured the company of rich or aristocratic persons. A maid or cook would never do as a wife for him. Gilbert’s joyful eyes turned into a glare. In spite of his unhealthy – as his little brother liked to say – confidence, the Prussian was now questioning his behaviour and looks. He first thought that she was displeased with him because he was a member of the high society. But the way she had glanced at his cousin – who too was a member of the aristocracy – told him that it was not the rank that she cared about. Would she prefer Roderich over him? Was the white-haired general too blunt in his advances – which he did not notice, had provoked her more than anything else he did. Elizabeta was not aware of his romantic intentions and misunderstood his flirtations and gifts. She would not smile at any compliments he paid her or accept his apologies, unless the presence of Mr Kirkland was forcing her to do so.

As she turned around to continue her walking towards the town, Gilbert could not prevent his feet from moving. He needed to follow her and decided to leave the party silently and inconspicuously. His brother was talking to Miss Honda, while his cousin was venturing the village’s beauty with the help of Miss Jones and Mr Wang. Mr Kirkland was sulking in the back and his American cousin tried to sooth him in any kind. Everyone was distracted which caused the Prussian to take matters in his own hand. “I just want to see what she is doing,” he justified his actions before he followed the beautiful cook.

 

Elizabeta did not notice the frame that was near her. She was distracted when she had entered the lane full of shops. Before she could visit the market, the brunette had to pass through this promenade: tailor shops, boutiques, etc. For months, she had seen through the windows of the expensive establishments and there was one certain boutique, she wished to enter if she had earned enough money. Her eyes looked for the item she wanted to purchase: It was a beautiful hair slide with a yellow flower and green gems. The shimmering colours caught her attention every time she walked by. It was not an item that had a material value for her, but an emotional.

“Miss Héderváry?”

Her basket fell, as she shrieked. Her eyes flashed to the source of the voice – and she knew immediately who had approached her. Laying her hand on her bosom, Elizabeta indicated her shock. “M-Mr Beilschmidt,” she acknowledged before she tried to calm her breathing.

“Your basket,” the Prussian General muttered before reaching for it to offer her. She on the other hand had a questioning look on her visage. While she was hesitant in accepting his kindness, Mr Beilschmidt was shyly smiling at her.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the white-haired man replied without diverting his eyes. It unsettled her immensely and she was uncertain of his intentions – because she was suspecting him of having followed her. Before she could ask him about her assumption towards his presence, the man in question prevented her from doing so.

“A gorgeous accessory.”

“Yes indeed,” she answered impatiently.

Undoubtedly, Gilbert was certain that she wanted to buy the hair slide and he decided to ask her if she wanted to purchase it. “You intend to buy it?”

Unfortunately, Elizabeta misinterpreted his question and non-verbal communication – he had been smiling since approaching her due to his joy of being so close to the woman. Elizabeta found his smirk suspicious and felt attacked by him – as always. “Do you doubt that I have not enough money for it?”

“O-Of course not,” he admitted with slight widened eyes. The Prussian had not expected such a harsh counter question – although he was familiar with her reactions. And to prove him his mistakes, Elizabeta decided to show him that she was very capable of entering a shop and buying the beautiful piece. This resulted that her actions were faster than the reconsideration of her words – which always happened when the red-eyed General was near her. Of course she could not afford the jewellery. If she would enter the bijouterie, the man would probably leave her and then she could exit the building. It was her spontaneous plan of avoiding Mr Beilschmidt.

“I will purchase it right away,” she proclaimed before entering the shop.

To underestimate General Gilbert Beilschmidt was a mistake. He followed her suit which caused the brunette to grow more nervous; her hands started to shake lightly.

“Welcome, Mr and Mrs . . .?”

“Beilschmidt,” Gilbert exclaimed before realising his words.

“Mrs Beilschmidt,” the shopkeeper greeted, causing the two addressed to feel extremely flustered. The Prussian’s red colour on the cheeks expressed his joy for thinking about her accepting his family name. Apart from his reason to blush, Elizabeta felt embarrassed. She was an unmarried – and unfortunately unaccompanied woman, so she should have expected that the stranger in the boutique assumed that they were betrothed or wedded – woman and not a General’s wife who had just taken her by surprise.

“What can I do for you?” the young man asked with a smile. He was unaware of the Hungarian’s chagrin and the white-haired Mr Beilschmidt’s delight.

“I-I would like to buy the beautiful hair slide with the yellow flower.”

“Oh, a wonderful choice, Sir. An agreeable present for your wife.”

Elizabeta was too speechless to utter her mind or to object Mr Beilschmidt’s offering.

They left the boutique afterwards and Gilbert turned towards her, “Here.”

She eyed him intensely. “I-I cannot accept it. It was too–“

“Please,” he murmured with down-casted eyes, “Am I so disagreeable that you cannot even accept a hair slide you obviously wanted to have. I have seen the look in your eyes and I wanted to see it replaced with joy.”

 

Gilbert was feeling more uncertain by the minute. Both knew that she wanted the accessory and after she had the possibility to receive it, she still refused the item. Because it was him, who had offered it. He pushed the it into her hands. “ _Bitte, nehmen Sie es an_. It matches your beautiful eyes,” he muttered soflty, before rushing back to his group of friends. His eyes had not met hers the entire conversation. He thought that she was still angry and the man was not prepared for seeing that look in her eyes. Not that day, when he had seen a different look in her face when she had observed Roderich.

Unbeknownst to the Prussian, Elizabeta had not been as angry as he had assumed. The woman was extremely confused by his actions and less arrogant behaviour. Her eyes were still directed on his back while his form grew smaller.

“Thank you,” she whispered before holding the item to her bosom. She had sold it when she had arrived in England because she was on the verge of starving. After she had fled her home country, she had no other choice but to vend the accessory. No one knew that it was a family heirloom. It was precious to her and held so many memories. Even if she did not favour this man, she would still thank him properly. It was one step to tolerate him.

* * *

 

**Translation:**

_Bitte, nehmen Sie es an_ – Please, accept. The first letter of ‚ _Sie_ ‘ is majuscule (formal German)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: Oh yes… Lizzie is fascinated by Roderich and Prussia does not like it :’D. Although Gilbert is displayed as an arrogant man with (too much) confidence, he often questions and doubts himself. The arrogance is a shell and I believe that he is able to brush some comments off, but when a person is involved that he cares about, then he is more hurt than he shows :O. In addition to that, he is hurt due the mere fact that she was admiring his cousin, of which Prussia is jealous.]


	13. 13

As if the weather was indicating the tense mood in the Kirkland mansion, some of the family members and guests took ill over the last days. A week after the Beilschmidts and Mr Edelstein had returned to their summerhouses, Miss Jones and Mr Yao’s symptoms of sickness such as coughing and sneezing increased. By the end of the week, the two were feverish and needed to stay in bed for the sake of their health. Unfortunately, the ball of the Beilschmidts was the next day. And this situation occurred to be a serious problem.

Miss Jones volunteered to function as Miss Honda’s chaperone during the assembly. It was forbidden for an unmarried woman to drive alone in a carriage in the company of a man; Attending a ball without an agreeable female or member of the family was scandalous. And now fate had decided that Sakura Honda had neither of them; her chaperone and uncle were too weak to leave their beds.

This left Arthur Kirkland, Miss Honda – who had recently entered the room, after seeing her uncle in his chamber – and Alfred Jones to muse about a solution for the ball. While the former did want to do anything for Miss Honda to attend the ball with him – in order to dance and to approach her due to their latest lack of social interaction – the latter one had already formed an idea in his head but knew that his English cousin would oppose his opinion on the topic. Nevertheless he decided to word his suggestion.

“I know this is quite inconsiderate but disregarding of Lady Bonnefoy’s rank, could she not accompany Miss Honda?”

 Gasps filled the room; while Sakura thought it insensitive that she – who had feelings towards the British man – should be confronted with the French woman who in Sakura’s opinion had stolen Arthur’s heart, Arthur could not think of a more inappropriate chaperone than this Lady. The brunette French would put foolish ideas into Sakura’s head – such as marrying her brother or other male guests who would be no good choices as a marriage partner.

“Woah, excuse me, I was only looking for a solution,” the American almost cried, holding both of his arms over his head. The reaction of the two had surprised him. Both were blushing – although Miss Honda’s colour was not as intense as his cousin’s. The Japanese stuttered a shy, “N-no, she does not need to burden herself with me”, while Arthur’s panting indicated his unsettlement. “No, she will be no good companion,” he concluded rather stressful.

“Well, who else do you suggest?” Alfred once again muttered out loud. “Who is a female, older than Miss Honda and spontaneously available for tomorrow’s evening?”

Silence filled the room until a small knock interrupted their quiet conversation. “Sir? Due to Miss Jones’ illness, Miss Héderváry wishes to discuss the meal for tomorrow’s lunchtime.”

At that certain moment, Mr Kirkland’s brain formed an odd idea. ‘What if she would disguise herself and attend the ball with Miss Honda,’ he thought to himself, growing desperate by the attempt of finding a solution. A servant was not allowed to attend an assembly which was originally planned for members of the English high-class. But this situation required a rather extraordinary way of thinking to solve the problem. A chaperone was supposed to dress herself nicely but less pompous due to her status. She should not be in the focus of attention on the ball but in the background. Normally, no present in the room would lay their eyes on the unimportant – although her function was important for the Lady’s virtue and reputation – chaperone. In addition to that, no one of the attending guests would recognise Miss Héderváry. She had never faced any of Arthur’s guest – except for the Beilschmidts themselves but the English Gentleman did not doubt that they would be pleased about her presence; especially the oldest of the siblings – and her dress and Make Up would increase her disguise.

“I will talk to her in a second,” Arthur spoke, having decided that he would ask her this favour – which she owed him after the scene from weeks ago, where her temper had clashed with Gilbert’s provocations.

The servant nodded before fetching the Hungarian cook who would be ordered to wait in Arthur’s office.

“I will ask her,” the blonde English suggested – and it did not sound as an uncertain proposition. To his astonishment, the two remaining persons in the room did not oppose his idea with shocking gasps or questions. It was as if Alfred and Miss Honda had thought of the same idea. Only seconds afterwards, the master of the house left the drawing room to talk – or rather persuade – Miss Héderváry in order to solve his dilemma.

ᴥ

“I-I beg your pardon?” Elizabeta stuttered; her face showing every sign of confusion. “Did you just request my presence at the Beilschmidt ball?”

Her employer in front of her only nodded; he had great respect for her and did anything to avoid any words that could turn her confusion into anger. After they had discussed the meals for the next day; he had informed her of his proposition. His question did almost sound as if he wanted her to attend the ball for the oldest Mr Beilschmidt’s sake. Which of course was not the case; and he needed to underline his suggestion. “I will of course offer you a dress for the ball; your function of a chaperon is of great importance,” he explained with a calm voice, although his nervousness was quite obvious. “Her uncle wishes that she could attend the assembly but he and Miss Jones have taken ill and cannot accompany her.”

The Hungarian woman was aware of his problem; and the rules of Victorian society considering a young unmarried woman. But the etiquette also indicated that a servant was not allowed to join the upper class, even if she would look changed; it was obviously a desperate idea.

“I understand your situation and I am aware of how to behave in presence of high-ranked members of society,” she admitted, thinking that the only person who had provoked her to behave uncivil was the oldest Mr Beilschmidt – the host of the ball. “If no one objects this idea, then I agree.”

Arthur smiled; he had found a solution and was certain that his cook did accept his request due to her friendship with Miss Honda and acknowledging the fact that they were in an odd and desperate situation. 

“Good, I am very much obliged to you,” he answered before leaving his office and Elizabeta was left to return to her duties; probably thinking about the recent conversation with him.

 

Arthur re-entered the drawing room, surprising his cousin and Miss Honda in a conversation – which did cause his heart to twitch a little; she had not once addressed him for a private conversation since Mr Edelstein had visited them. The only talk they shared was that of the weather. He had noticed that she had grown more distant to him even if he considered her a dear friend. Something had changed and he could not fathom what could have occurred to have her behave in that way towards him. Nonetheless, he announced the outcome of his – as he found – glorious idea which caused the American and Miss Honda to smile: They were definitely relieved.

“Oh before I forget to tell you but you must be aware on the ball,” Arthur spoke, addressing the Japanese woman next to him who turned her head immediately.

“Why?”

“You have a high dowry and some of the attending male guests are not sincere in their intention of finding love or a suitable wife and often trick women for receiving their dowry,” he confessed with a concerned expression. The blonde did not want her to be approached by any men who could endanger her happiness – and he did decide for himself that none of the present men at the ball (with the exception of himself of course) deserved her happiness.

“I understand,” she muttered, the emotion in her eyes visible. “I will be careful.”

This statement sounded so sad from her mouth that Arthur felt miserable for even mentioning it; He too was unsettled, having her introduce to other men who could win her heart which in return would break his.

 

Alfred shook his head; the sight that he beheld was almost unbelievable: the two persons on the settee were hiding their true affections. Everyone – even the gardener, who barley saw them – had noticed that those two were lying about their true feelings. ‘Maybe if I do tell Arthur about the incident in which she had listened to his harsh words, he would admit his love,’ he mused, growing impatient the more he observed the two. It was unbearable to watch and the American told himself that he would inform his cousin about it after the ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: I am so sorry for posting today, but I visited Facts Convention (in Belgium) the other day and it was amazing :D so I returned home rather late but I still wanted to write the next chapter… and then my laptop decided to make a huge update (without asking for my consent, those jerks) and I did not want any update so my only choice of stopping the update was by shutting down the laptop :’D and half an hour later, it restarted again but it was far too late ( and I was tired as hell) to proceed the writing so I decided to continue the chapter on my 3-hours train ride from Brussels to Arlon. And guess what? I was distracted from my writing because some people were controlled by the police in the train, some were called outside, etc. (It’s a little more than one week after the Brussels Attack, so you still see a lot of police forces). Why God must people be so stupid and kill other people? What the hell? Seriously, I am more annoyed by those dim-witted twats than scared. Excuse my rant but it angers me so much; either way my creative thoughts were a little dimmed :O, so I still hope that this chapter is okay D:. Oh Lord what a long Author’s note :’D sorry mates.]


	14. 14

“I am so excited,” Miss Honda admitted as she stared out of the carriage. The party – which consisted of her friend Elizabeta Héderváry, Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland – was sitting in the driving vessel for the ball. And Sakura was not the only one of them who was nervous about the assembly (with the exception of Alfred): Elizabeta was happy to see a grand dance but had no great desire to face the oldest Mr Beilschmidt even if she wanted to thank him for the head accessory he had bought her days ago. Her hand slowly touched the gift which was completing her knot. The only one, who was conflicted with himself – and not only for that day but for a week – was the English Gentleman who sat next to his cousin. Arthur felt extremely content to have the first dance with Miss Honda, while he was afraid of her distant manner she had demonstrated towards him over the last days. But the most unsettling thought his mind harboured was the thought of her meeting someone she wanted to court. He remembered the conversation he had with her and their visiting party last week; she had shown a great interest in Mr Karpusi and Arthur disliked the imagination of the Greece and her dancing arm in arm at the ball.

Earlier, when she had descended the stairs to approach the men in order to enter the carriage, Arthur had felt his breath stuck in his throat. The blue muslin dress she wore, the flower in her styled hair and her light flustered expression had created the illusion of an angelic creature – which he found to be the most accurate description of the Japanese. He had stepped forward, offered her his arm and had wished that nothing would interrupt their moment. But she had been reluctant at first and the distant look in her eyes had returned. It affected him so greatly that he had decided to finally ask her after the ball. He would confront her, noticing that he could not endure another day with her being cold towards him.

Alfred nudged him in his ribs and this move brought Arthur back to reality. “You are staring,” his cousin concluded in a whisper as Arthur’s eyes did not leave Miss Honda. Since they had entered the carriage, he had observed her rather obviously. But he did not blame himself, she looked absolutely lovely. In addition to that he was rethinking of any reasons that could have inflicted her neutral behaviour towards him. He admitted that it drove him mad; after so many days of facing her cold shoulder, he felt hurt and misunderstood – not knowing that Miss Honda had been hurt by his spoken words and had taken the decision to keep a certain distance.

The carriage was moving in a constant rhythm until it suddenly stopped. The two females’ excitement increased as their sight ventured the ambience outside the window of the carriage: People were streaming in the Beilschmidt’s house; lots of servant opened the doors, accompanied some older guests to the door and greeted them while music played inside the building.

“Marvellous,” the Japanese voiced, her eyes shining with awe. Her chaperone nodded, silently agreeing with her statement.

The carriage driver opened the door and Arthur decided to assist his guests with the exiting of the vessel. The party proceeded to the grand entry and were greeted with welcoming words and dancing cards. Of course, Arthur suggested writing his name on Miss Honda’s dancing card; having been promised the first dance after they had brought their jackets in the cloak room. One could already feel the warm air as they approached the ball room: Couples were dancing, the music was playing and the guests were engaged in conversations.

Sakura’s excitement was causing her to smile even if some of the attending guests had given her strange and curious looks. She was aware of people’s questioning expressions; most of them had never seen an Asian woman attending an upper-class ball before. But she could not care less about their opinions as she observed the ball room. She had always read about it in books or heard from Miss Jones of the enchanting balls. And now she was here and could not say that she was disappointed.

Arthur watched as his female companion radiated the room with her smile. His heart accelerated upon seeing the joyful expression on Sakura’s face. “Such a wonderful sight,” she breathed; The Japanese was delighted by this evening and he had to admit that her voicing expression was not mistaking the situation. He agreed with her and concluded that she was the only reason for this ball to be this pleasant. And again, the Gentleman had to confess to himself that he harboured feelings for her; more than he cared to admit to himself. He did not like to acknowledge his mistakes but this time he knew that his cousin had been correct in his assumption. The thought of him marrying a Lady of society seemed ridiculous the more he watched Sakura. Maybe fate was signalling him to follow his heart’s wishes and not those of society or his father. His heart burst out of his chest as he continued his observation of her joy; she had not openly showed any emotion for a week and witnessing it after so many days, Arthur felt light-hearted. He did not want to miss that sight ever again.

Harmonic music sounded through the room and the English man decided to claim his first dance after a new song would be played.

“Miss Honda,” he cleared his throat, “May I have the honour of the next dance?”

The addressed woman turned towards her companion and stared at him. She slowly nodded before she voiced her agreement. But it never came, as a group of people greeted Mr Kirkland in a rather unfashionable manner.

“Oh _bonsoir, Monsieur Kirkland._ ”

Arthur internally cringed but decided to not display his dismay to the French Baronet.

“Good evening,” he greeted with a neutral expression before addressing the rest of the group; the Frenchman’s sister, their Belgian cousin who was accompanied by her husband Antonio Fernández Carriedo. The latter was a Spanish officer who had been married to Emma for several years. They claimed that they had fallen in love at first sight and Arthur had believed it immediately. After many years of marriage, the two were still acting as if they recently fell in love.

“How are your children doing?” Arthur asked after he had properly introduced Sakura and Elizabeta – who to her wonder, received knowing glances from the four, but she dismissed it quickly – to them.

Upon hearing his question, the Spaniard laughed, “They are doing fine; Feliciano is very intrigued by art and little Lovino tends to argue.”

“Oh, does he?”

“Indeed,” Emma told him, “Last time he claimed that our dog should only eat tomatoes. And he stubbornly followed the poor animal with the fruit in his hand.”

“Oh dear.”

“And you should have seen the flower arrangement from last week,” the blonde woman sighed, “He had a discussion with our maids and ordered them to do another arrangement. It was more of a tomato arrangement and of course Feliciano tried to draw the scenery.”

The party laughed before Antonio spoke again. “And to show that we appreciate our children’s talents, we had to put those drawn paintings of tomatoes in the drawing room.”

“What wonderful children,” Francis concluded, “They certainly have brought a new light in your home.”

Sakura’s smile widened as she heard of those tales. Oh, much she wished to have children of her own. She had always liked the idea of being a mother and being married to a man she loved. Fortunately, her uncle had not forced her in an arranged marriage years ago. He wanted her to choose on her own, to write her own story of her life. And now she had the possibility of finding love in a ball room. Sadly enough, she had already found love in a man, of whom she thought did not reciprocate her feelings. Arthur Kirkland possessed her heart and had broken it the night, he had voiced his opinion about her and the possibility of loving her. The feelings she harboured for him were still the same but she tried to ignore them. She had to marry another man and she hoped to find him here. Love with that chosen male will come with the time, when she would forget her affection for the British Gentleman whose claps around her arm was still firm.

Her eyes fell on Miss Bonnefoy, who watched her and her male companion. Sakura assumed that Mr Kirkland was in love with her – and she could not be more wrong about it – and decided to leave them for the sake of fetching a drink at the buffet. She would not stand in his host’s happiness – even if it meant to sacrifice her own.

“I would love to drink something,” she said quietly turning towards Elizabeta who was still laughing about the conversation.

“Oh, I can fetch you one, if you like,” Mr Kirkland replied, having heard her comment. He was smiling at her lovingly and the Japanese could not think of why he was eyeing her in such a manner. Unbeknownst to her, his mind was filled with the same topic, Sakura had only thought about seconds ago: Children and the happiness of having a family.

“Please don’t trouble yourself, I-I will go with my friend,” Sakura declined, tapping Elizabeta’s shoulder, who had observed the two of them.

“Oh . . . If you wish,” he murmured, clearly disappointed by her answer.

He watched the two of them leave him. His shattered hopes and dreams pierced his heart. She had objected his suggestion of giving her a drink; which in his eyes was a gentleman’s task: to tend to the lady he was accompanying.

 

“Why did you not want him to bring you a drink?”

Miss Honda was startled as she heard her friend’s question; she had told her about that dreadful night days ago. Although Sakura was certain of what she had heard, Elizabeta was rather confused and had mentioned that the Asian woman must had misunderstood; Elizabeta had seen the way he was looking at the Japanese. It was crystal clear that he was smitten by Sakura; nevertheless she understood her friend’s feelings. She was still hurt and needed a certain distance from the man.

“He has to be more engaged with Miss Bonnefoy if he plans on marrying her,” Sakura answered, almost causing her Hungarian companion to spit out the content of her drink.

“You cannot be serious!? Please don’t tell me that you are still holding on that notion,” Elizabeta exclaimed, “Believe me, he is not attached to her.”

“But, I am certain. His reaction whenever she and her brother are near him.”

Elizabeta could not reply as they were approached by a man who was acquainted with her friend.

“Mr Edelstein, what a pleasure,” Sakura affirmed, noticing how the man had diverted his attention towards Elizabeta who was sipping her drink next to her. It was not only the flower in her hair that highlighted her eyes, but the dark red green that complimented her figure.

“May I introduce you, Miss Elizabeta Héderváry, this is Mr Edelstein.”

While the Hungarian woman was a little uncertain, knowing exactly with whom the man in front of her was related to, Mr Edelstein was clearly enchanted by her.

“Roderich, my dear friend,” a new voice joined them, causing Sakura to turn to the source of it – which was directly behind her. Unfortunately, she had not been aware of his closeness as she spilled her drink on the gentleman.

“A-a thousand apologies,” she stuttered, a blush adorning her face.

“Oh dear,” the man mentioned before laughing.

“Mr Karpusi,” Roderich intervened.

And At that moment, Sakura lifted her head to face the gentleman she had soaked with her drink; and all she could see were a pair of green eyes.

* * *

**Translation:**

_bonsoir, Monsieur Kirkland – Good evening, Mister Kirkland_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: I upload today, because I won’t be at home this weekend but I don’t want to procrastinate the update of the next chapter :) . I decided to include the pair Spain x Belgium :) and of course their children are our beloved Italian twins :D (because I think it is cute :D Romano decorating the house with tomatoes while Feli paints them :D forza azzurri ~ Teamwork à la Italia ~ ). And I don’t need to explain the allusion of Iggy thinking about children. He has extremely conflicted feelings in admitting his love (I know it’s getting old xD) and he came now to the realisation that he is in love with Sakura and cannot undo it. Even thinking that maybe fate wants him to marry her and not another society Lady; and that’s the reason why he will confront her at the end of the ball. And Alfred wants to confront him by telling him about Sakura’s eavesdropping; while Sakura will be engaged with other guests. Gosh this is going to be very chaotic and dramatic :’D. Apart from Asasaku’s drama, you can see who Gilbert’s rival will be :’D]


	15. 15

“Good evening, Miss,” the man in front of the blushing Japanese greeted. Many emotions prevented her from speaking: excitement, embarrassment, shock and admiration. Roderich, noticing the short silence – and receiving a sign from Mr Karpusi to continue the conversation – decided to introduce the two strangers.

“So you are the mysterious Miss that is staying with her father at Greenstoke,” the Greek man ascertained with a gentle smile. The rumour of her and her father’s stay was still the main topic of the gossiping people among the English society. He had heard of it two weeks ago and was delighted to make her acquaintance – even if she had spilled her drink on his attire, which in his eyes did not matter anyway.

Having found her voice again, Sakura answered him. “Indeed I am. Although Mr Yao is my uncle and Godfather.”

“Oh please excuse me, but the rumours were not specific in your relationship with your uncle,” the green-eyed apologised and Sakura could only gaze into these beautiful irises. She was musing about the amount of people she knew who had this shade of green in their eyes. In Japan, she knew no one with blue, grey or green eyes. There, she had often been praised for her light brown eyes. In England, it was a common colour.

“Pardon Miss Honda, but . . . May I have the next dance?” he suddenly asked, causing the young woman to look at him with widened eyes; she had not expect him to ask her for the next dance. The dark-haired would have accepted immediately, had she not promised Mr Kirkland the first dance.

“I apologise, but I am already engaged for the first dance,” she admitted before handing him her dancing card, “But there are spaces left.”

“Oh,” Mr Karpusi breathed after a minute of silence, “it seems that I would claim the third dance with you.

“T-Third?” Sakura asked a little startled. “What do you – ”

He showed her the dancing card and she discovered that Mr Kirkland had written his name down for the first two dances. The forth line was also occupied with his name, leaving her wondering why he wanted to have so many sets with her – and she was told before that dancing more than three dances with the same partner was considered improper.

“He is a friend of mine,” the Greek suddenly chuckled, “and I cannot blame him for wanting to dance three dances with you.”

Her heart was racing; she just did not know if it was for the compliment she had just received or for the mere fact that Mr Kirkland wanted to have three dances with her.

 

Elizabeta observed their interaction – not noticing that she too, was watched by a certain Austrian – causing her mouth to form into a smirk. Sakura’s first ball had only begun minutes ago and was already successful. She was happy for her friend even if she knew that her employer would not approve of this development.

“Miss Héderváry?”

The brunette turned towards the Austrian who had addressed her.

“Would you give me the honour of the next dance?” he asked, one hand grabbing his glasses.

“Oh, I would be honoured, Sir, but I am only here for the sake of accompanying Miss Honda,” she replied with a sympathising look, “I am not certain if a chaperone is allowed to dance.”

“Most certainly. A ball functions for these engagements, to enjoy yourself, no?” he concluded before clearing his throat, “I could not let such a beautiful young Lady as you stand on her own all evening.”

Elizabeta slowly nodded with red coloured cheeks, thinking that Germanic people must be fascinated by her. Otherwise she would not comprehend why Mr Edelstein and his cousin were looking at her with these intense eyes. But she admitted that she liked this man more than the Prussian who had insulted her a month ago. As if she was speaking of the devil, the loud voice of the white-haired General interrupted her and Mr Edelstein’s conversation.

“Cousin!”

Upon hearing the sound which had an annoying ring to it, Elizabeta tried to hide her face behind her drink. She hoped that his ignorance would dominate his senses; then he would not recognise her. The appreciation, she needed to express to him for purchasing her the hair accessory, still needed to be spoken out loud to him. But she decided to wait as long as possible before talking to the Prussian.

“Gilbert . . .,” Roderich acknowledged with a twitching eye, his patience was already at its limits. “Why are you gracing me with your presence at the buffet?”

The question sounded extremely sarcastic and the attending guests around them felt the tenseness between the two family members.

“I am starving,” Gilbert clarified and for the first time his eyes wandered towards the other three persons that were standing near Roderich.

“At least you cannot insult the buffet by claiming that the food is horrible,” his cousin calmly – but disparagingly – said, not noticing how Elizabeta and Gilbert froze. While the former was still embarrassed by this _accident_ , Gilbert had stilled in his movements not only because of his cousin’s statement, but due to his female companion’s accessory in her hair. He had recognised the item immediately; his eyes than tried to detect the woman’s face – who was still hiding behind her drink.

His heart started to race.

“M-Miss H-héderváry,” he stammered with a flustered face, completely surprised by her presence at the ball. _His_ ball, in _his_ house. The dress she was wearing was rather plain but he could not care less; for him, she looked absolutely gorgeous.

“Y-you know Mr Beilschmidt?” Roderich inquired with a baffled expression; he was a little dismayed by this knowledge. The sight of Miss Héderváry, who was eyeing the floor while Gilbert was looking dreamingly at her with red cheeks, was unsettling the Austrian.

Elizabeta was conflicted; if she told him in which situation she had had the _pleasure_ of meeting the Prussian General, Mr Edelstein would be disappointed and shocked – probably thinking it was an improper move of the Hungarian. In addition to that, she did not want to disclose to Mr Edelstein that she was the cook – a mere servant – in Mr Kirkland’s household and only pretending to be a chaperone for this evening.

“We only met once, very shortly,” Gilbert answered, seeing that Elizabeta had problems to explain herself – and he refused to explain his cousin that she was the one that had thrown food at him. “She is acquainted with Mr Kirkland,” he added in the hopes of avoiding other questions of his cousin. Sakura, having heard the conversation, decided to express her opinion too. “She is a dear friend of mine,” she mentioned. This quietened the Austrian and eyed the Hungarian. His interest was now obvious; if his cousin seemed interested in her – having witnessed that Gilbert had never shown any interest in any of the Ladies he had met – then the brunette beauty had to be an extraordinary being.

“I still hope, my request of dancing with you is not too bold,” he uttered and received a small smile from Elizabeta, who explained him that her dancing card was still empty. And she had not come with a partner to the ball, but with the task of chaperoning Sakura. It was a private ball and Mr Edelstein did not understand why such a beautiful Lady like Elizabeta was supposed to only chaperone and not to enjoy herself.

“As the host of the ball, I claim the second dance!” Gilbert intervened, his voice louder than before – fortunately, the music in the background was covering his exclamation.

Elizabeta’s face screamed mortification, while Mr Edelstein caressed his forehead with his hand; indeed, his cousin was a special man. Nonetheless, the Hungarian accepted the two requests – even if the ladder sounded like a command – and was unaware of both men’s happiness.

ᴥ

“Blasted,” Arthur muttered under his breath. His surroundings were loud enough for him to dim his expressed unhappiness. He was standing almost thirty metres away from the buffet but had witnessed all of what had happened there. It was not the odd group of his cook, Mr Beilschmidt and Mr Edelstein that caught his attention, but Sakura and his Greek friend that were talking and laughing together. The Englishman was alarmed by this sight – knowing that Mr Karpusi loved the company of many females – and decided to join them in order to claim his first dance. He was flustered by thinking that he had written his name down for other dances too, without Miss Honda’s consent. Indeed, he was a little egoistic – again one of his character traits that was not quite positive.

“Mr Karpusi, Miss Honda,” he voiced out loud, after reaching the pair. Only seconds after calling them, another man joined the scene; one Arthur did not approve of. In his eyes, too many men were trying to coax his Japanese guest. It was clear that this man only wanted to approach Mr Karpusi, but after noticing the petite woman next to him, the stranger did not waste any time in complimenting her.

“Good evening, beautiful.”

Arthur’s blood boiled. ‘He dares to express such words without being introduced to her,’ he thought in anger. It was a bold and extremely improper move.

“Good Grace Sadik!” Heracles muttered and Arthur knew exactly what would happen: Mr Karpusi and Sadik would discuss their different opinions; something that always occurred when both were at a ball. This day would be no different.

“What? Am I not allowed to pay compliments to a gorgeous Lady anymore?”

“Not in such an insulting manner! You have not been introduced,” Heracles protested, indicating the Turkman to respect the Victorian etiquette.

“Well then, introduce me,” Sadik ordered with a laugh.

At that the annoyed Greek man smirked, “Just like you refused me to be introduced to your dear sister?”

“How dare you!?”

Sakura observed this conversation with an uncomfortable feeling. These two men were worse than Mr Edelstein and the oldest Mr Beilschmidt. At least, they had the decency to not _discuss_ their problems in a ballroom, in front of strangers. She knew that she was the cause of this unpleasant quarrel.

“Watch your tongue, Karpusi!”

‘Oh Lord,’ Arthur mused, fearing that this row was soon turning into a duel between two gentlemen. He saw no chance of avoiding it until he would introduce his dear companion to the Turkman – who was acquainted with all the attending guests, even with Arthur.

 

After the passing minutes of introducing each other, the quarrel between the rivals ceased. “I was not certain if the rumours were true,” Sadik smiled before bowing in front of Sakura, “But I am glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Honda.”

The addressed woman only reciprocated his smile. As Sadik asked Sakura for a dance, the tenseness rose again. “May I have the next dance?”

Heracles was beginning to feel just as annoyed as the Englishman.

“She has already promised me a dance,” Mr Karpusi voiced, less calm than before.

“That does not mean that she should only dance with you!”

Their _conversation_ was at risk of escalation; Sakura was a little overwhelmed by this occurrence – never before had men fought for her attention.

“Hairy face! She likes me more than you!”

“Are you mad?! She likes me more!”

The Japanese wanted to intervene but did not know how and glanced at Mr Kirkland to beg him to give her an advice.

“I will take Miss Honda to the dancefloor now,” he mouthed – only to be ignored by the quarrelling party.

Arthur did not want to have his evening – and especially his dance with Miss Honda – disrupted by those two. He knew that his Greek friend and Mr Adnan had a rivalry relationship. Last year, rumours of Mr Karpusi courting Mr Adnan’s sister had worsened their acquaintanceship. Arthur was not certain if it was true or not; but he had seen Mr Karpusi admiring Miss Adnan. Despite her upbringing of being an accomplished young woman, she had a way of expressing her opinion with improper word; every time she was facing a man that wanted to dance or talk to her, he would be confronted with her unladylike words. She was as worse as her brother.

“I will wait here,” Elizabeta mumbled to Sakura, as Arthur offered her his arm. The Hungarian was ignoring her two admirers who were glaring at each other while she would watch her Japanese friend dancing for the first time at a ball.

Sakura was glad to have stand next to her host when Mr Karpusi and his _friend_ had started to argue. She would have felt extremely uncertain if he had not appeared. “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling guilty that she had relied on him again; too often in such a short time.

“There is nothing to apologise for,” Arthur answered her gently before he took her to the dancefloor. They positioned themselves before the music stroke the first chord. From there on the rhythm was leading them automatically causing both to enjoy their dance – and for the first time, Sakura did not think of Miss Bonnefoy courting the Englishman.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: I am so tired :’D I tried my best to write this today :’D. This is almost going to be Turkey v Greece – Dawn of Justice :’D]


	16. 16

“I hope the ball fulfils your expectations?”

Sakura looked up at his dancing partner; she thought about his question and concluded that she never really had expectations. Of course she had read and heard about the procedure of such assemblies, but she wanted to be surprised by this ball; to experience it on her own. Indeed, she was enjoying herself greatly; meeting new people, having conversations and being asked for many dances: the whole ambience was pleasing her.

“I am very much enjoying it,” she breathed while mirroring Arthur’s steps. His close presence was making her nervous – unaware that she had the same effect on him. Nonetheless she tried her best at not stepping on his foot. It was a different task to dance when the room was full of people. In addition to that, the warmness in the ballroom did not benefit her reddened cheeks.

“Although I must admit that it is a little warm,” she confessed, causing her partner to smile.

“I know, it is a little sticky, but we shall have a small pause after the music stops. Had you at least the possibility of having a drink for refreshment before this dance started?”

The Asian woman glanced at him; uncertain about his question . . . But how could she answer him? The content of her drink had been spilled on Mr Karpusi’s attire and not refreshed her in any kind.

“W-well, I did not have the opportunity, as I was surprised by Mr Edelstein’s friend,” she admitted.

At first she could not read his emotions; he stared at her with a musing expression before forming a small smile – which was accompanied by rosy cheeks. “O-oh, yes, b-but may I ask . . . to what extend did he surprise you?” Arthur asked a little curious and Sakura felt more flustered than before; it would be a great embarrassment for her. ‘He will probably laugh at it in private, but what am I thinking? It does not matter what happens, he made it very clear what he thinks of me,’ she thought and decided to tell him either way. Sakura was determinate in forming her words; her host had hurt her and she would show him that she could bear it even if he was unaware of her knowledge.

“I spilled the drink on Mr Edelstein’s friend. I did not expect somebody to stand closely behind me.”

“Oh?” the blonde Englishman was frowning; his eyebrows knitted. He was clearly not amused by this and Sakura interpreted it as a sign of disapproval – which he was, but not towards her but the man who was doing anything to be considered Arthur’s rival. Sakura on the other hand misread his mimic: he was not content of her tale and probably not of her move.

 

ᴥ

 

The presence of the dancing couples completed the image of a perfect ball. Elizabeta watched the delighted faces; especially Sakura’s and Mr Kirkland’s visages. Both were completely lost in each other’s eyes. Still, one could detect the small amount of tension in Sakura’s shoulders and the Hungarian thought about her words minutes ago. She had told her of his opinion – of which Elizabeta thought that he had uttered those under stress; knowing that his cousin must have confronted him more than once – a week ago and about Sakura’s suspicion of him wanting to ask Miss Bonnefoy’s hand in marriage. For Elizabeta, this was odd; knowing that his host had never shown any interest in Miss Bonnefoy.

“I was unaware of your coming.”

She abruptly turned away from the dancing couples; her observation interrupted by a man with red eyes. A man, she knew well.

“It was a spontaneous decision,” she muttered, her eyes focused on the grinning Mr Beilschmidt, before glancing back at the moving mass in front of her, seeing that her friend and Mr Kirkland were having a discussion. “Neither of Miss Honda’s acquaintances could chaperone her today, so I decided to function as one for her sake.”

“That is very noble of you. And I must say that I am delighted by your presence,” the Prussian admitted with a heated face and Elizabeta was left with thoughts of why his visage was showing such colouring. ‘It is warm in the room,’ she mused, convinced that this had to be the answer of her question, even if the truth was far from it.

“Thank you,” she replied.

“W-well I hope to see your presence on other balls too, I mean I only saw you at Mr Kirkland’s home, working,” Gilbert explained, thinking that his words would signal her that he liked to see her often in a room where he could talk to her for hours while dancing. Unfortunately, it was an inconvenient approach and the brunette was fuming over his last chosen words.

“Do you suggest that I am supposed to fulfil my duties all day?”

Gilbert heaved a sigh, realising once again how she was twisting his words; something she did whenever he spoke to her. He was growing frustrated and his desperate try to interact with her was straining his nerves.

“N-No of course not. I meant to say that I wish you would visit more of these delightful assemblies in order to amuse yourself,” he tremulously said, waiting for her to react to his speaking. As no words escaped her lips, he quickly decided to change the topic. “The accessory flatters your eyes. I-I knew it would look lovely on you.”

The compliment was almost whispered by the nervous Prussian, whose eyes had quickly sighted the floor. He was never flustered around women and experiencing it in that moment was something he could not handle well; especially with other people in the room. Gilbert had not only paid her a compliment, but offered her an insight of his sentimental side; something he had never shown anyone with the exception of his brother.

 

Elizabeta touched the accessory in her hair, thinking about his words. “T-Thank you,” she mumbled with a shy smile, watching as Mr Beilschmidt’s red irises eyed her again. Before he could properly answer her – his heart was bursting out of his ribcage. The reason: seeing her smile at him and thanking him for the first time they had ever met – the music stopped.

“Miss Héderváry?”

Hearing his cousin’s voice was unsettling Gilbert again; his eyes were set on the brunette in front of him – who by now had completely stolen his heart.

“The next dances will be announced soon.”

It was an indication for the dance she had promised Roderich and the tenseness returned again.

“Oh, yes,” she smiled at the Austrian; a grander and gentler smile as Gilbert had ever received from her. Even if she had shown him a small smile; it left him jealous.

It was the first time in his life that he was envying his Austrian cousin who was taking Elizabeta’s arm to lead her away from the Prussian.

“I will fight for her, prepare yourself, Roddy,” he mumbled, not noticing how his younger brother was watching him with a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: I sincerely apologise for this short chapter ;^; I hope I will complete the whole ball-scene in the next chapter :3]


	17. 17

“So, who is Mr Adnan’s sister?” Sakura asked briskly; she had to admit that she was still thinking about the conversation between her Greek dancing partner and his _friend_ or _rival_ – she did not know how else to describe their relation.

“Oh, well she is a very . . . special person; her manners are not quite ladylike, but she is somewhat endearing and very pretty.”

The Japanese’s interest was caught; she eyed Mr Karpusi as the moved with the music’s rhythm. She had to admit that she liked his company and their conversations.

“Is she attending the ball tonight?”

“Unfortunately not,” the man answered sincerely before glancing at the surrounding dancers, “I heard your uncle is trying to build his trading company in England?”

“Yes, he wants to establish it in Europe. It was successful in Asia, but I cannot disclose any other details to you. I don’t want to discuss my uncle’s business affaires on a ball and I know not much of it.”

Heracles nodded, understanding what she meant. He smiled before continuing the conversation, “I am honoured to dance with you, Miss Honda.”

This statement caused the petite female to blush while her face formed a small grin, “The honour is mine, Sir.”

Mr Karpusi was delighted by her reaction.

“May I ask, if I can have the fifth dance? Apparently, Mr Adnan had forgotten to write his name on the card,” he stated with a glorious grin, seeing that the Turk had indeed forgotten claim a dance by writing his name on the dancing card. It gave Heracles the opportunity to dance another set with Miss Honda.

 

To say that Arthur and Gilbert graced the ball with their positive looking presence was a blatant lie. Both were sulking at the border of the dance floor, observing the dancing couples – or rather the men that were holding their beloved ones.

“How long is the music going to play?” Gilbert asked a little annoyed, glaring at his cousin while holding a glass of alcohol in his hand.

“That’s a good question,” his partner answered in a hissing tone, his arms crossed.

Indeed both were not presenting their best mood to the public, and the surrounding people noticed; especially their relatives who were approaching them as fast as possible as they recognised the air of tenseness around them.

“Arthur,” Alfred spoke as he neared his cousin – avoiding the use of his soubriquet for the sake of not provoking him any further. The American’s eyes looked for Miss Honda of whom he had thought would be not far from his cousin. Only as he noticed her in the crowd of the dancing couples, did Alfred understand what was upsetting the English man. “She is dancing with Karpusi,” he expressed a little baffled and earned a piercing glare from Arthur as he muttered these obvious words.

“No, seriously? How can you be certain? Oh my eyes must have deceived me, I did not notice she was dancing with that Greek,” Arthur chided sarcastically, looking back at the dancefloor. “He is telling her something and she is smiling,” he commented with a low voice, but the ill-tempered sound was unmistakable.

“Maybe he was jesting and she found it comical?”

Alfred’s answer was enough to receive another glare by his cousin – again, although the green-eyed man had never stopped looking furious.

“Then it seems that my dear cousin was jesting too,” Gilbert mocked, drinking from his glass, before mimicking his friend’s piercing gaze. It was a scene that looked – and absolutely felt – hilarious and miserable at the same time. Not long before Alfred had reached his cousin, Ludwig had approached his brother as well, his hand already on the bridge of his nose: he was uncertain of how to calm his family member; he had observed Mr Edelstein and his female companion – of which he was surprised to see, knowing that a servant would have never had the opportunity of receiving an invitation.

“ _Bruder_?”

“Oh Ludwig, good you are here, we have to stop the music,” the oldest of the siblings uttered, while his British friend approved that plan with a nod.

“Indeed, Mr Beilschmidt, the music is far too long for this one dance,” Arthur commented and realised that he had never thought he would consider something of this kind. For Alfred and his German friend this sounded absolutely outrageous – although the former still chuckled over his cousin’s obvious jealousy; first he complained about Ludwig being too close to Miss Honda, and now he wanted him to support the English man in order to disrupt the dance because his object of love was engaged with another man.

“ _Das reicht jetzt. Hör auf mit deinem kindischem Blödsinn!_ “

His voice was not booming through the room, but the tone of Ludwig’s voice was stern enough to frighten his American and British friend. His older brother – who was concerned to accept this brotherly _advice_ – did not retreat from his position. On the contrary, he raised his glass to express his next intentions by emptying the content of the glass in one gulp.

Arthur shook his head upon seeing the Prussian’s reaction.

Unbeknownst to Arthur, his American cousin had slipped away from the scene, looking for any friends of his in order to distract the English Gentleman from observing the dancing couple because Arthur could not become any angrier; he was already murdering people with his glares.

Alfred’s eyes quickly met those of the French Baronet who was on the other side of the room. Alfred knew that his British cousin would not be amused by this occurrence, but the American claimed to justify his actions with the saying “Desperate times call for desperate measures”. And Alfred was a bit desperate with the situation. As he approached the French Baronet, he apologised formally; Both of the French siblings were engaged in a conversation and he would interrupt them. “Beg your pardon,” he exclaimed, “I am delightful to see you.”

 

“ _Bruder_? You know how your behaviour is affecting people’s opinion about you?”

“Pff,” the oldest Beilschmidt sibling laughed until Ludwig’s expression grew less annoyed; he had gotten an idea and Gilbert did not like that.

“What about Miss Elizabeta Héderváry? Even if she is engaged in dancing, she can still observe your distasteful behaviour.”

As if lighting had struck him, the white-haired Prussian set his glass on the table nearest to him and straightened his body; his composure was completely different now. As Ludwig glanced at him with a raised brow, Gilbert tried to relax himself against the pillar of the room, a small blush adorning his pale face. “Don’t you dare to speak of this,” he murmured to his brother, clearly annoyed by the fact that his sibling knew how to manipulate his brother.

Only seconds afterwards, the melodious sound stopped, and Ludwig was quite certain that God must have heard his prayers. Unfortunately, the ceasing of the music indicated that the next dance would proceed anytime soon, causing the two sulking men – although Gilbert had changed his demeanour a little – to wait nervously for their Ladies. It was a picture that no one would forget so quickly.

* * *

**Translation:**

_Das ist reicht jetzt. Hör auf mit deinem kindischem Benehmen!_ – That’s enough now. Stop that childish behaviour of yours!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: I am so sorry for posting today; I went to a convention two days ago and arrived at home at midnight. I was just too tired to write :’D. I wrote the whole chapter today but split it in two parts. ]


	18. 18

Arthur detected the tall Greek man among the crowd as he brought a smiling Miss Honda back to the place where they were waiting. During his observation of the couple, Arthur eyed Mr Karpusi’s arm – which was being held by the Japanese’s hand – and could not suppress the prickling feeling of jealousy in his stomach. An emotion that affected his behaviour more than he cared to admit and everyone had already taken notice of that fact – especially his cousin.

“Oh my, Mr Kirkland,” Heracles acknowledged before turning to his female companion who was still holding onto his arm, “it was a delightful dance, Miss Honda, I am looking forward to the next set.” With these words, he retreated slowly from her, not noticing how intense the blonde Gentleman was glaring at him.

“The next set?” Arthur asked flagrantly, his eyes following his Greek friend who was approaching a gossiping group of Ladies. His petite companion was taken aback by his tone; she thought she had made a mistake and her mood changed immediately. Sakura had been happy since the beginning of the soirée but now, a small frown adorned her face before looking at the parquet. ‘Why is he so angry?’ she thought to herself, seeing how coloured his face was, his eyebrows knitted together.

Unfamiliar with this sight, she decided to leave him by himself; an uncertain feeling settled itself in the pit of her stomach. The woman did not want to be faced with his furious, knowing that she had caused him to be in that state. She turned around to walk towards the buffet. Minutes passed before he realised that she had abandoned him for the sake of a glass of refreshment. Arthur was a little troubled by this gesture – witnessing for the first time that she had shown such a move. The feeling of rejection claimed his emotions and at that moment he was more than certain that something was troubling her that involved him.

For Sakura, to overcome her fear of behaving incorrectly by ignoring her host was extremely difficult. After all, this man was still in possession of her heart, but to know how he thought about her and how he was upset whenever she fulfilled the etiquette that society demanded – by not only dancing with him or being engaged in conversations with other people. He had never been clear in his intentions – except for uttering those to his cousin in the midst of the night. She asked herself why his emotions changed quicker than at the beginning of their friendship.

The Japanese was too lost in her thoughts to perceive his approaching, although his aura was more than readable. His eyes were filled with hurt, his eyebrows knitted together, signalling his worries. Despite the obvious fear that he had completely lost her that evening, he was trying to not express it openly. They were in public after all.

 

Elizabeta was laughing with the Austrian who was holding her hand in a graceful manner, only to be stopped by the oldest Mr Beilschmidt who had steadied himself with one arm on the pillar. His glaring has ceased as he had seen his beloved’s smile, which lightened his mood instantly.

“I am aware of the exhaustion you must feel, Miss Héderváry,” he commented, ignoring his cousin completely. “If I may suggest that we have some refreshment before dancing?”

“Gilbert!” Roderich exhorted, noticing that the addressed woman was overwhelmed with the situation – which was not the exact truth, she was rather overwhelmed by the fact that she had to dance with the Prussian General. Elizabeta thought of the procedure and the imagination of the two of them on the dancing floor was causing her to shudder. She was not prepared to face his wrath (or whatever he was planning to tell her), thinking that that would happen when the two would dance together.

“Roderich,” the white-haired man mumbled with a scowl, growing impatient by the second. He had been waiting for the music to stop – and for him, this was a long period of time to wait for a dance – and to accompany Miss Héderváry further in the room in order to dance. The two relatives were glaring at each other while Elizabeta searched for her friend, who was fetching a drink from the buffet. She noticed her employer’s aura, knowing exactly that the man was infatuated by Sakura and his jealousy was obviously clouding his mood – not noticing that she too was triggering the same emotions in her two admirers.

“Will you please excuse me, I would like to return to Miss Honda and drink something,” she said and instantly received positive answers.

 

“Sakura,” Elizabeta addressed but almost regretted it as she and her partner turned around; their faces were clearly showing signs of annoyance and hurt. The Hungarian could not fathom what had happened while she had been a few minutes away; some misunderstandings must have occurred – nothing knew when those two were involved – otherwise she would not see her friend in such a state. A state in which she had never seen her Japanese friend before; she never showed her emotion so openly to the public.

“I-is everything all right?” she inquired worryingly, uncertain of this development.

“Yes,” her friend affirmed which was uncommon for her to express it in that way, only to feel embarrassed seconds afterwards. “I apologise, Elizabeta,” she spoke, her tone softer. “It seemed that I am more exhausted than I thought.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” she answered and took her friend’s hand. The tenseness in the atmosphere slowly disappeared, until Alfred graced them with the presence of himself and the Bonnefoy siblings who had accepted to help the American.

“Good evening,” Francis greeted with a bright smile, surprising all of them with his and his sister’s presence.

“S-Sir and Miss Bonnefoy,” Sakura acknowledged instantly with a small bow – Elizabeta mimicking the gesture while Arthur sighed loudly. He somehow had the suspicion that his cousin had planned to include those two in their party.

“Miss Bonnefoy, Frog,” Arthur mentioned with a cold tone and grimaced as he thought of his original plans for this evening. It was absolutely not faring as he had hoped it would. Not only were his emotions plaguing him, but the sight of Sakura’s sad and hurt eyes would not leave his mind. He was uncertain if his Greek friend had given her bad news or if he had wronged her – although he did not know how he could have done it in any kind. He thought himself to be right, even if he had told Alfred a big lie considering his feelings towards the small Japanese whose smile did not reach her eyes.

Francis did not need much time to notice Arthur’s mood, especially the mention of ‘frog’ had indicated that the Englishman was far from being delighted. Before any conversation could distract the man from his current emotions, the next dance was to be announced.

Sakura tensed up instantly, her down-casted eyes suggesting her shy and unsettled state. Nonetheless, Arthur led her to the other couples, standing opposite from her, while his Prussian friend and his dance partner stood next to them. None of them were comfortable with the situation – although Gilbert seemed to be more content with this occurrence than the rest of them. As the orchestra played the first notes, the pairs moved.

Elizabeta and her partner did not speak until she calmed her nerves, after noticing that the General was not as untalented in dancing as she thought. Neither was he judging or insulting her; he did something she had never thought he would: he wore a dashing smile that was only meant for her. “Y-you look stunning,” he breathed, the colour on his cheeks indicating his nervousness. “I-I am honoured to have this dance with you.”

Even if she thought him arrogant, Elizabeta was certain that he was different from before. “Thank you,” she mumbled, “A-and thank you for the accessory, I really appreciate it.”

“I could not bear the sight of you in front of that shop,” he admitted, “Your eyes were void of any positive emotion . . . I had to buy it.”

Elizabeta stared into his conversation partner’s eyes, her mouth unable to form any words. He was staring at her with such intense eyes; his red irises filled with warmth and admiration. This made her finally understood what he had said; what he was trying to say for weeks. He was taking every opportunity to flatter her for the sake of making her happy. Even if some of his spoken words could be misunderstood, his demeanour now suggested his caring for her. It was the first time she noticed this circumstance. As she further reflected on his actions, she could not comprehend, why a General like him would ever want to interact with a servant who had spilled him with food. For her, it gave rise to questions.

“I am glad,” she answered genuinely, the thought that maybe the two of them could befriend each other, became more realistic.

 

Not far away from them, Arthur and Sakura had none of such positive thoughts; one could almost see a dark cloud above them.

“I hope Mr Karpusi had not dared any improper move,” he started the conversation, hoping that she would disclose to him what had occurred between her and the Greek man. Instead, her shoulders tensed and she averted her eyes to the side, a small blush gracing her face.

“He did not dare any such move, he was extremely generous,” she answered with a small smile on her face as she remembered their conversation, causing the British man to bluntly speak the statement that had been on his mind for the last ten minutes.

“So it was I, who carried out an improper act,” he accused with a frown – which still had not left his visage. Sakura was a little startled by his sentence and remained silent.

“You won’t response?” He whispered softly, his suspicion confirmed. “What was it I did that had unsettled you?”

“I-it was nothing,” she shyly mumbled, revealing to him that she was not a good liar.

“Miss Honda, please . . . ,” his voice had a worried tone.

“I-I,” the black-haired stammered, “I know how you think of me . . .”

He froze, his eyes wide and mouth agape. While she thought of his hurting words from days before and was certain that he was talking about his opinion of her. That she was a burden and had never been his love-interest. Unbeknownst to her, Arthur mused that she knew how he felt about her; that he was in love with her. The conversation miscomprehended by both.

“So, you know . . . How?”

“Yes . . . I-I was aware,” Sakura told him, not wanting to disclose the details of her eavesdropping. His reaction was not the same as she had imagined it; his cheeks flushed and his voice extremely soft and low. The thought that he was mocking her, crossed her mind.

“Oh . . . I did not intend to make you feel uncomfortable,” he whispered as he held her closer. If she was insulted because he harboured feelings for her, then Arthur would be completely devastated. And so he decided to ask her if she reciprocated his feelings.

“B-But . . . May I ask . . . D-do you feel the same?”

It was improper to inquire such matters of feelings on the dancefloor, but he wanted to know. He _needed_ to know. Unfortunately, Sakura analysed the content of the question in another context. ‘Is he asking me if I feel the same disapproval towards him?’ she was uncertain of his choice of words. He did not like her as she liked him, she was aware. “N-no,” she mumbled, afraid of her emotions, because she had offered him the truth that she would consider courting him. It was a small confession . . . Without a doubt, both had created the grandest misunderstanding, they could face.

 

Her answer had made his blood run cold. His heart had skipped a beat – a painful beat – while his hands started to shake. ‘She rejected me,’ was all that was in his mind; the man was unable to form any other thoughts in his brain. The music stopped at the same time and in the blink of an eye, he removed himself from her, bringing her to his American cousin before leaving them. He marched towards the balcony, seeking comfort in the stars and the fresh air that would embrace his shaking form. Arthur had not prepared himself to be confronted with a rejection.

He stayed outside for the rest of the evening, not capable to bear the sight of her dancing with Mr Karpusi.

 

Alfred approached him with a confused face but did not inquire after his well-being. The American had noticed the crestfallen look in Arthur’s eyes.

“We are departing,” he informed him without any other words being exchanged between them, the two walked to their carriage, where their female companions were already seated. Arthur did not glance at Sakura. During the drive, he was observing the landscape. Sometimes, Elizabeta would giggle as she was discussing the evening; Arthur did not mind, until she mentioned Mr Karpusi’s and Sakura’s dance.

Alfred was gazing at his cousin, seeing as he flinched when the name of his Greek friend was uttered. Something had happened and this time he was clearly unaware of the situation. His eyes wandered from Arthur to Sakura, who sometimes glimpsed at the English man, her face wearing a confused and worried expression. The American internally groaned: he had to fix this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: There is so much drama :’D but at least Lizzie and Gilbert are improving their relationship, while Sakura and Arthur have a big misunderstanding. But don’t worry, they will learn of their true feelings soon enough :3]


	19. 19

To describe Arthur as a morning person was a blatant lie. Everyone knew of his quotidian fight to exit his bed. Especially the day after the ball, the urge of staying in his room had never been so strong. His mind still lingered on the past evening's event – or rather mishap and dramatic occurrence.

"No," he groaned into his pillow, he had not slept a minute due to his mind, which was too occupied to revive the conversation he had with Miss Honda. It was a confession and she had clearly disapproved his feelings towards her, causing him to refuse to face her this day. He could not stand her sympathising look in her eyes or the way she would not glance in his eyes for there she would find pain. Arthur knew her long enough to know that she did not want to hurt anyone – although she had broken his heart. The Englishman was not ashamed of his feelings towards her and he mused of telling her properly, just not this day.

"Come one!" Someone shouted in front of his room and Arthur knew exactly who was disrupting his thoughts on his plan on avoiding his female guest.

"The nerve . . . ,"the blonde muttered, not in the mood to open the door for his American cousin. Since the night before, he had tried to approach him, to ask him what had happened, but Arthur had remained silent; his eyes speaking more than his mouth.

"If you don't come out, I will enter!"

Arthur heard the amusement in his voice and it unsettled him greatly. "No!"

"You know that you have not eaten any breakfast . . . And Mr Karpusi is the waiting room, he has called on us."

Now that brought the Englishman to his feet; even if he had concluded to avoid his Asian company at all cost but hearing the Greek's name made his blood boil. Jealously was stronger than rational thinking – or his plan which had already failed before it had been properly carried out.

Alfred was not surprised as the door was opened in a violent manner – he had expected such behaviour from his cousin.

"How long has he been waiting?"

"Some minutes," The American grinned before his face fell, "But we have to talk. I want to inform you of something and you have to explain yesterday's event."

"Nothing happened."

It was a lie, and both were aware of it. "I have asked Miss Honda about it b –"

Arthur turned around and walked brashly away, clearly avoiding the topic of the mentioned woman. He rushed downstairs – only to find a startled Sakura in the hall. It was a tense aura that surrounded both; the two remained silent until the female acknowledged him with a stammering greeting. She clearly avoided his piercing eyes, before he mimicked her actions – although his voice sounded flat. A servant passed them and stopped, witnessing that odd scene. He eyed the two awkwardly before retreating to the servant's staircase. The poor man did not want to face his employer's wrath – which would have happened, seeing the man's angry green eyes.

To avoid the tense silence, Sakura decided to start a conversation, "I heard that Mr Karpusi called on you."

It was a simple gesture of her to show that she still wanted to socialise with Arthur, but all he could think of was her and his Greek friend in the ball room, while he was trying to regain the broken pieces of his heart.

"Yes."

The answer was short and it affected Sakura more than she cared to admit. Her eyes quickly found the floor, causing the English man to regret his answer; His eyes softened immediately. He noticed her nervous state and was not sure how to react properly; she had broken his heart after all.

"I wonder what he wants," he confessed and Sakura lifted her lovely eyes to meet his again. This action only fuelled his anger – or rather disappointment – because it proved him what he could never have: her looking at him every day, calming him with her presence and her sweet smile.

"Arthur!" Alfred descended the stairs, seeing the couple in the hall. While the Japanese's body language signalled shyness, Arthur's aura was sending death threats to everyone near him.

"Should we not greet Mr Karpusi properly and call for the rest of the residing guests to meet him too, Arthur?"

The addressed man's jaw clenched; he being told what to do in front of others – especially in front of _her_. In addition to that, he fairly disapproved of the idea of Mr Wang meeting the Greek. What if he liked the idea of him courting his God daughter? Once again the feeling of jealousy took a hold of his emotions.

"I am not certain if Marguerite is healthy enough," he commented, eyeing Sakura who answered that her uncle, unlike Marguerite, was not feeling sick anymore.

"I will call him," she spoke with a light smile on her face before looking for her family member.

After having been introduced to the new friend of her Goddaughter, Yao found himself in a drawing room filled with several different moods. Some were happy, others worried and a certain Englishman was fuming. It was an assembly of an emotional disaster and the Chinese had wished to have stayed in bed. He would rather fight a fever than remaining in this room. Nonetheless, he was extremely pleased with the new acquaintance he had just made. It was very evident that Sakura liked the Greek, even if her eyes wandered to Mr Kirkland, who sat away from the party, glancing every few minutes at the pair whenever Sakura was laughing or telling something from the past evening. During a conversation, in which only Sakura and Mr Karpusi were engaged, Yao diverted his eyes to his American friend. With raised eyebrows, the man inquired after those odd circumstances and the reason why a sulking English man sat in the corner of the room.

"What happened?"

Alfred shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know, but something happened between those two, although neither of them wanted to tell me."

"I can ask my niece," Yao offered, "I know that Mr Kirkland is rather stubborn."

"Oh yes he is," the American chuckled loudly, causing every present to look with a smile at him – except for Arthur, who had chosen to glare at his cousin, feeling that he was be the topic of their conversation. He stood up and exited the room, ignoring the questioning looks he received.

"I may have an idea," Alfred whispered to his friend before standing up and leaving the drawing room in the search of his cousin. He knew that Yao would speak with Sakura while he would try to convince Arthur to disclose the happenings of the evening before.

The American did not need long for finding his grumpy cousin – the green-eyed man was in his study, sitting on the window sill while observing his garden. He was completely engulfed in his thoughts and did not notice Alfred entering through the door.

Alfred cleared his throat, making Arthur turn around.

"Arthur, I need to speak to you," he said, receiving a small glare from the confronted person. "It is an information considering Miss Honda."

"I don't want to talk about it," the British man hissed, "leave me alone."

Despite the anger in his voice, Alfred refused to return to his guests; not before informing Arthur of Miss Honda's eavesdropping. It was not a familiar move; the American never betrayed his friends, but knowing that this piece of information could bring Arthur to reveal his true feelings towards the Japanese, was worth the risk.

"The night you claimed to never harbour feelings for her, she –"

"Alfred, please leave, I don't want talk about it!" Arthur forced the words out, hating how sensitive he sounded. His family member watched him with pity in his eyes before continuing.

"She was listening . . . She wanted to thank you for the clothes you have bought for her. Unfortunately she was in front of your study when you declared that . . ."

"She heard me," Arthur whispered, his eyes widened at the new discovery.

"That is why she started acting cold towards me . . ."

"Indeed."

A frown graced the English's face, "She misunderstood my confession . . . That is why she said that she knew how I thought of her."

"Y-your confession?" Alfred asked baffled, trying to understand how his confession must have sounded when she misunderstood it completely. Well his cousin had never been good at choosing the right words. Arthur ignored his question and got to his feet.

"I need to explain it properly to her."

"And how will you say it?"

"I don't know yet, but I must," he exclaimed, his face full of hope as he exited the room.

Alfred shook his head, "unbelievable . . ."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: I am so sorry for posting today. I wanted to write on Saturday but Eurovision prevented me from doing so :'D I was a little upset with the outcome of the show and once again ESC proved to be politically influenced. Russia received most of the votes from the public while the jury hardly gave Russia any points – once again Europe tries to denounce Russia, something the leaders of Europe always do. I laughed when I saw the Greece Jury giving Russia 12 points – and I immediately thought about the incident in November when a Russian aeroplane was shot down by Turkey and Greece supported Russia. Oh and Poland received almost zero points, but the public loved the act; because Polish government does not obey Europe's commands, that's why the jury gave them 1 or 2 points. And Europe is trying to back up Ukraine – even Germany sends their troops in the east for the sake of a NATO-manoeuvre; or rather provoking Russia and displaying them as a threat. But the question is, how will Ukraine fund the ESC; the country is in the middle of a civil war (thank you NATO for that too ~). I sincerely do not want to attack the Ukrainian Singer, because it was her personal song and she wanted to cope with her grandmother's story. But ESC should not be political but fun, crazy, glittery and humans being dressed in Aluminium foil . . . Well whatever, I am so sorry for ranting and giving my opinion about today's politics . . . but yeah :'D.]


	20. 20

Without knocking, Arthur entered the drawing room, his face rosy due to his embarrassment of opening the door in a rushed manner. He could already feel the curious eyes on him – only to find that he was alone in the room. The British man exited it again in order to find his butler who could give him more details of the disappeared party.

“They are in the garden, Sir.”

“Oh, Thank you,” the English man answered before walking to his next destination, not noticing the knowing grin that was gracing his butler’s face. Every servant in the Kirkland household was aware of their master’s emotions. They were excited, for they had never seen this before, the nervousness in his voice, his longing glances towards the Japanese guest. The servants were all content and every evening in their kitchen, they would wager when he would finally admit his feelings towards her. They even made bets on Mr Beilschmidt and his confession for Elizabeta – whom of course was not aware of her colleagues’ newest hobby.

Arthur took a few steps before his eyes caught another group approaching his house: the Beilschmidt siblings and their Austrian cousin. Even if they were his friends, the English man was extremely annoyed; he wanted to privately speak with Miss Honda and now he had to share her with the others . . . Again. “What the deuce,” he cursed under his breath, before walking towards them to greet them properly – as a gentleman he was still obliged to fulfil the rules of society, even if the moment his friends decide to visit him was poorly chosen.

 

Away from the new approaching visitors, Sakura sat on a bench with her Greek acquaintance and her uncle – who was keeping his distance from them. She had been excited when he had called on them, but an odd feeling was dominating her body as she remembered the moment they had sat in the drawing room together. The female reflected on the part where Mr Kirkland had left the drawing room in an extremely annoyed manner, and she could not fathom what had urged him to do so. Since the last evening, their relationship was rather tense. But he had openly asked her what she thought of him; she felt mocked by his odd approach but now she thought that he had meant otherwise.

“I sincerely want to apologise for yesterday’s evening.”

She focused on the man next to her, his green eyes soothing, although they were not the green eyes she had wished to look at so closely.

“Apologise?” she asked, uncertain of the meaning of his statement.

“Yes, for Mr Adnan’s behaviour . . . Although I can comprehend his fascination with you,” he resumed with a gentle smile.

That compliment flattered her; her red cheeks deepened as they heard an argument nearby.

 

Arthur’s jaw clenched as he detected Miss Honda. He thought that he needed to approach her as quickly as possible; the man needed to solve the misunderstanding that had pushed her into the arms of Mr Karpusi. He would not bear the sight of those two together. Next to him were Gilbert and his cousin discussing last night’s dances. The two had started the conversation in a gentle manner before it had escalated into an argument. At first Roderich had complimented the ball room’s decorations, before he changed the topic to his wonderful Hungarian dancer. Gilbert agreed with the terms of her being absolutely beautiful, but as his Austrian cousin commented on his idea of being more suitable for her as a dance partner, Gilbert became angry.

“I am far more qualified to be her partner,” the Prussian defended himself before his cousin merely smiled.

“Such an ignorant man like you?”

“What did you say?”

Meanwhile, Ludwig was accompanying them, thinking of why he had greed on joining them; not only were his family members having a public row, but the man they wanted to visit was far from being delighted. Mr Kirkland's forehead was adorned with a furrow, while his eyes displayed all his negative emotions. Ludwig was certain that the English man was even capable of giving the flowers in the garden a death threat. All the German could think of was the question of why he had not decided to remain at home and read a book – in silence, far away from the trouble in front of him.

 

ᴥ

 

It did not take them too long to enter the mansion again due to the weather which had almost adapted to the emotions of Mr Kirkland. The stormy atmosphere outside was forcing them to return inside.

Elizabeta was ascending the servant stairs because she wanted to talk to Mr Kirkland about his choice of food for supper. She had not seen him during the morning – not knowing how much his emotional state was affecting his choices – and Miss Marguerite was still too ill to leave her bed and chamber. She eyed the hall as she heard several voices and stopped abruptly as she recognised the ones that were haunting her since last evening: Mr Beilschmidt’s and Mr Edelstein’s voices. As she turned towards the source, she detected them quickly; Being ashamed of her current attire and occupation, she quickly hid behind a pillar which provided her shelter from their sight. The oldest Mr Beilschmidt knew of her occupation and he was not the cause for her hiding; it was his. She did not want him to know that she was a cook in a household and not the lovely chaperone he had met yesterday.

“Such a nice assembly,” the Austrian claimed, talking to Ludwig. “I wonder where Miss Héderváry is at the moment. It would have been lovely if she visited today.”

Hearing this made her blood froze.

“She will probably come another day,” Gilbert commented with a smile, knowing that she was listening to them – he had seen a small piece of her dress behind the pillar of the hall. He was aware that she did not want to be found out by them – especially by his cousin. Roderich was a proud and rich man and Gilbert was certain that the Austrian would not be delighted to know that he had danced with a servant. He would be insulted; for him the social etiquette was more important than any infatuation he had towards her.

 

She heaved a sigh as the party was being led to the drawing room, only Elizabeta’s employer was outside and before he could join his friends, his eyes caught hers.

“Miss Héderváry,” he slowly spoke, “I believe you have to cook for more people this evening, because the storm will prevent them from parting before supper. And prepare whatever you wish to prepare.”

“I understand, Sir,” she answered and detected his frowning expression; She knew she was not the one to be concerned about it. “I will start preparing the dish.”

 

ᴥ

 

After Alfred had come back from his sister’s chamber – he was still worried about her, even if the fever was almost gone – the visitors were having delightful conversations all day, while the rain drops outside were heavily falling to the ground. Mr Edelstein had finally declared his reason to visit his English friend: he wanted to personally invite them to his masquerade ball. Of course the invitation also concerned a certain Hungarian woman, who was not present in the room – but Sakura had instantly answered for her, saying that her friend would gladly attempt the ball with her.

 

ᴥ

 

The wind slowed down, the raindrops disappeared as one of the last sunrays illuminated the sky.

“The establishment of the business has failed.”

Alfred looked at his friend; both were currently in the library, having retreated from the drawing room where the guests were still entertaining each other. After supper, Mr Wang had asked Alfred for a private conversation and the American had not thought that his friend would confide into him that his plan of creating a business in England was unsuccessful.

“What do you mean?”

“It was one of the reasons why I came to England, but the funds, which were promised to me that could help me in establishing my business, were never given to me. And I don’t know how to fix it, otherwise I have to return home,” Yao explained, sounding extremely sad.

Alfred pursed his lips, “That is extremely unfortunate . . . Does Miss Honda know about this?”

“Yes, it is quite unfortunate,” his friend spoke before shaking his head, “No, she does not . . . And if I will return home, she will probably have to accompany me.”

This was an inconvenient situation and the American was the only one who knew of the failing company.

“I won’t take her with me, if she is happy here. And I am still holding onto the hope that she will find a suitable husband.”

Alfred’s brow was raised, “you mean as suitable as a grumpy and proud English gentleman could be?”

Both of them chuckled, but Yao made it clear that as long as his God daughter was content with her choice – seeing that her Greek acquaintance was keeping her good company – he would not prevent her from marrying who she wanted to.

“I agree,” Alfred replied before explaining Yao what he had discovered; the Chinese man was still unaware of what had happened the night before.

As his friend told him of Arthur’s confession which unmistakable had led to a grave misunderstanding, Yao could only shake his head. “They certainly have to discuss this properly; love is not easy.”

 

ᴥ

 

It was after supper when the weather had finally calmed and Arthur had taken the opportunity to finally give Miss Honda an explanation for his behaviour. The rest of the party remained in the drawing room – except for his cousin and Miss Honda’s uncle who had earlier left the room for a private talk. He had asked her with such a shaking voice that he believed her to have accepted his request out of sympathy.

“M-miss Honda, there is something that needs to be explained,” he stammered after he had brought her to his office – leaving the door ajar for the sake of avoiding any rumours that could destroy her virtuous reputation; it was a rule in society to not close the door when an unmarried couple was alone in a room.

Sakura, on the other hand, was rather confronted with the memories of the night when he had voiced his opinion of her.

“You mean yesterday’s event?” she forced her voice to remain steady but was unsuccessful. Nonetheless the English gentleman did not notice, he was too engaged in his attempt of calming his own nerves.

“Y-yes,” he admitted, his eyes facing the ground.

Sakura eyed the man in front of her, his sight still fixed on the wooden floor; a familiar warmness was spreading through her body. Seeing him in this state was affecting her emotions more than she liked to admit.

“I will listen,” she whispered soothingly, touching one of his arms with her right hand.

As Arthur lifted his eyes, he could not stop himself from gazing into her brown irises. Once again time stopped and he needed several seconds to focus on his task again.

“I apologise for my reaction . . . It was a misunderstanding and . . . ,” he breathed again, “A-Alfred told me that you had eavesdropped on our conversation.”

The warmness of her fingers disappeared from his arm when she retreated from him; her cheeks flushed and her eyes widened. She was clearly embarrassed that she had been found out.

“I-I do not blame you,” he urged, seeing as she turned her back to him. “I am aware of what I said at that night . . . those words were poorly chosen, because it left room for many interpretations.”

Her head turned back to him and Arthur thought that he should have drank a glass of whisky; it would have been easier to search for words.

“I-I never meant it; It was evening and I was tired as Alfred confronted me . . . I am so sorry,“ his voice’s volume decreased at the last part and all he wished to, was for her to forgive him.

‘His face looks so genuine,’ she mused, seeing the defeated look on his visage.

“You never meant it,” she whispered out loud, not noticing that he had heard her, causing him to avert his eyes to the other side of the corner.

“N-no,” he confessed and a huge grin spread on her face, her happiness radiating through the room.

“I am so glad . . . I thought I would burden you a-and you would hate m–”

It took him three steps to approach her; his arms grabbing her shoulders as he peered into her eyes with such a serious expression that Sakura forgot to breathe.

“You have never been a burden to me,” he affirmed, “and I could never bring myself to hate you . . . Never.”

It was a confession – even if the words were not clear, the meaning and his expression portended his emotions – and Sakura was left speechless, she laid her hands on his – which were still warming her shoulders.

Despite the rules of Victorian society, Arthur slowly leaned down – for him the moment was perfect – while she did not squirm in his hold, feeling as if she could faint any second. Before his name could leave her lips in a whispering tone, a loud laugh from downstairs threw them out of their dreamy state. Being a gentleman, Arthur pulled back in a second, coughing in his fist – not for the sake of clearing his throat but for covering his flustered expression – while his other hand slowly took a hold of Sakura’s petite hand.

She glanced at him and chuckled, finding it extremely adorable how shy and embarrassed he was in that certain moment.

“S-shall we return?” he asked, looking at her with such devoted eyes that she could only nod to answer his question. Their hearts were still racing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: I wanted to thank you for all the kudos :D. Either way I shortened the plot, because otherwise this story would never end :’D and I decided to end the drama here >:D; I love their lovely scenes, this pairing is just so adorable :D. Btw, rereading and posting this chapter while watching Borussia Dortmund VS FC Bayern (Dortmund all the way <3) is somehow exhausting; this took me like forever :’D.]


	21. 21

“What a comfortable warm breeze,” Elizabeta spoke to herself as she walked through the town. The day before, the weather had been unforgivable, but this day, the warmness was enclosing her form. Her master had asked – one does not simply order Miss Héderváry around, even if her employer has every right to do so – her to buy something for supper. She had noticed his friendly demeanour, his light-hearted mood – just the same features she had seen in Sakura’s face, although the Japanese was always friendly. Elizabeta was certain that both had finally cleared the misunderstanding between them – the carriage-ride from the Beilschmidt’s ball had been extremely tense, but the ball itself was a delightful experience for the Hungarian and her Japanese friend.

A small smile graced her lips as she remembered that evening; she had danced twice and to her astonishment: she had buried the hatchet with Mr Gilbert Beilschmidt. Something she had never thought she would achieve.

“Miss Héderváry?”

Her feet stopped abruptly, her head shooting up to the man in front of her. His red eyes were widened, his mouth agape.

“Y-you look lovely.”

She blinked, not familiar with him paying her compliments so openly in the public. “T-thank you.”

It was silent afterwards, only the smile on the Prussian’s blushing face suggested his happiness of seeing her – clearly confounding the young cook. As she focused back on her former thoughts, Elizabeta decided to speak again.

“I know we have come to the agreement of being friendly to each other, but you don’t need to pay any compliments,” she suggested, hoping that his former sentence was being said due to the rules of social interactivity. Although Elizabeta had to admit that he looked quite adorable with his reddened cheeks and grinning face.

“Oh . . . But it’s the truth.”

Now she was the one who was flustered. Lately, the man had turned from completely obnoxious to shy and friendly – but only in her presence, she had noticed. As long as no other persons were approaching them, he would remain as such.

“Oh Gil –  . . . Miss Héderváry? What a delightful convenience to meet you here!”

“Roderich,” Gilbert acknowledged, but it was easy to detect the annoyed tone in his voice.

Before Elizabeta greeted the Austrian, she quickly hid the basket behind her back and hoped that he would not question her attire.

“M-Mr Edelstein.” She wore a smile, not noticing the piercing eyes of her Prussian companion. “What are you doing here?”

“My cousin Gilbert wanted to take a stroll and I decided to join him –”

“You did not even ask me; you just came along, Roddy!”

“– And I am glad to have taken such a decision, otherwise I would not have met you here. Say, Miss Héderváry, what is such a lovely Lady doing here on her own?”

“She has to endure your annoying speeches! That is the cause of her being here!”

Roderich pushed the glasses up his nose bridge before addressing his cousin, “Gilbert, why are you interrupting our conversation?”

“I am not . . . ,” he declared with crossed arms and a frown on his visage. His cousin only shook his head.

“You are insufferable, Gilbert.”

The brunette female stared at the quarrelling party; once again she was reminded of the past evening, where the two had verbally fought over her – something she had not often witnessed: no one was interested in a servant, although Mr Edelstein was unaware of her occupation . . . But his Prussian cousin was not.

“Would you like to accompany me for a while?”

Panic took over her body, as she remembered the basket behind her back; how could she hide it further when he would want to walk with her? Her pleading eyes glanced to Gilbert who was still very engaged in his foul mood.

 

Gilbert was still enraged of his cousin’s attempt of courting the woman he came to love – yes, he had finally admitted that he was in love with her and would prevent his cousin from successfully winning her heart. As his eyes fell back on the brunette, he couldn’t stop the heat from rising to his face. She looked absolutely beautiful and her pleading look was all she needed to do to make him forget the world. The man thought of the basket behind her back that would disclose her occupation to his cousin. She wanted to avoid that at all costs – and he would help her. He sometimes wondered how much control she had over him.

“Miss Héderváry is still wearing a basket that had fallen to the ground. Apparently a servant of a rich household had not noticed that it fell,” he said, quickly taking the basket from her hands. Their fingers brushed – even if it lasted for less than a second, the contact was accelerating his heartbeat.

“How can a servant forget or not notice that?” Roderich uttered, “What incompetence.”

“W-well . . . ,” Elizabeta muttered upon hearing the slight angered tone in his voice; she was becoming uncertain about herself. The Austrian did not notice her odd reaction and offered her his arm as they distanced themselves from his cousin who looked defeated; left alone with a basket in his hands. All he wanted to do was spending time with the woman who had become one of the most important persons in his life.

 

“I know this seems quite forward, but I must admit that I find you very delightful,” Roderich suddenly spoke, “you are a wonderful woman, Miss Héderváry.”

The Hungarian froze after those words; for half an hour they had spoken of the weather, the recent ball and the servant who had forgotten the basket. Although the former topics were being voiced during a nice conversation, the latter was worrying Elizabeta and she wished to be in Mr Beilschmidt company, who could help her. She herself was rather impressed by her own feelings that she wished him near her. Even if Mr Edelstein was a gentleman in every way, some aspects of his character and behaviour were unsettling her. The way his nostrils moved whenever he was mentioning the basket of the servant, how he wiped his head whenever he was speaking of the ball and his quirk of touching his glasses to push them back to their original place on his nose bridge. It were small details, but Elizabeta detected them nonetheless and she resumed that the arrogance ran in their family line, although the older Mr Beilschmidt had decreased the amount of his bragging nature whenever he was in her presence. In spite of her former hatred towards the Prussian man, her mind drifted to the precious evening, when the two were dancing . . . How he had gazed at her with such a lovely look that her face was becoming extremely rosy.

‘Good Grace . . . no,’ she thought, ‘I cannot be smitten by this man.’ The denial was present inside her mind, but her reddened cheeks and accelerated heart were clearly showing her growing emotions to the man she had vowed to hate. She steadied her head with her hands, desperate to avoid thinking about Mr Gilbert Beilschmidt who somehow had affected her more than she liked to acknowledge. And it dawned on her when she was in presence of his cousin who was declaring his disapproval of servants.

“Miss Héderváry, are you feeling unwell?”

“N-no,” she answered before realising that he had paid her a compliment minutes ago, “Thank you for your kind words.”

“It is the truth, Miss, you are an extraordinary woman.” He smiled softly. “You even impressed my dear cousin and believe me when I say that he is rarely smitten by the Ladies of our society.”

 

Gilbert had observed them since they had left him; a strange feeling settled down in his stomach as he noticed Elizabeta’s blush. He sighed, feeling disheartened by this new development. Of course his cousin would receive the attention of the woman that had caught Gil’s interest – and heart. Whenever women had to choose between him and Roderich, the Austrian was always the favourite company of them. Gilbert never stood a chance against him and even if he had felt challenged the previous night, this day proved to dim his high-spirits when he felt his heart aching at the sight of the two of them. Though he wore a fake smile the moment the two neared them again, displaying his insecurity once again with his arrogant façade; one that Elizabeta had long since seen through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: Poor Prussia ;A; but Lizzie is finally acknowledging her own feelings >:D. I wanted to thank you for the kudos :D]


	22. 22

Arthur tapped his fingers on the chair lean in the drawing room as he watched Mr Karpusi and Miss Honda; both were amused and in high spirits while having a the conversation. It was the fourth time the Greek man had visited them; four days after Arthur had almost kissed the woman he was observing now. His face grew warm only thinking about his ungentlemanly move – he had been completely lost in her lovely brown irises and she had not discouraged him when she had stepped forward and not stopped his movements. He had seen it in her eyes; both were feeling connected and his hopes that she shared his affection grew again. Although the two had never spoken of that incident ever since it had happened; Miss Honda was acting in an extreme shy manner afterwards and he was certain that she felt a little insecure. Arthur did not want to overwhelm her with his feelings; he wanted to give her time. Unfortunately his Greek friend was disrupting his plans by being present almost every day.

Unbeknownst to the English man, Sakura was still pounding on their shared moment. She knew that he harboured feelings for her – which were not unrequited – but she waited for him to openly disclose them to her. If he intended on courting her, he needed to be clear with his words. Sakura knew it was silly to think in such a way with a man like him – who had problems expressing himself – but she wanted to be certain.

“Miss Honda, may I ask for a stroll through the gardens?”

She focussed on the Greek man next to her as she titled her head in question.

“I wished to privately talk to you,” he affirmed in a soft voice.

“O-oh, of course.”

Alfred and Arthur listened to them before they left the room – Sakura throwing a glance at the English man and his cousin. While the former was confused by this outcome, the latter was growing suspicious and nervous at the same time.

“Oh no . . .”

“What?” Alfred raised a brow.

“I hope he is not asking for her hand in marriage,” Arthur spoke quickly, pressing his hands on the table to push his body up.

“Do you really think he would . . . Oh, now I understand.”

“What do you understand? That she is absolutely wonderful and anyone would be lucky to marry her,” Arthur sarcastically commented, walking across the room as if he was measuring the chamber with every step.

“Mr Wang’s establishment of a trading company has failed. Due to that he will probably return home and take her with him when no one would marry her,” Alfred disclosed to his cousin, “He hopes for her to have a bright future in England and Mr Karpusi must have asked him a day ago when we were taking a walk.”

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks, “Do you mean to tell me that she will go back to China and leave England . . . us . . . _me_ for good if she remains unmarried?”

“Yes.”

 

 

“Alfred, where is that bloody ring?” Arthur pressed the question as he rummaged through his drawers. After Alfred had answered his question considering Miss Honda’s return to China, Arthur had sprinted towards his room and almost broken the door when he was looking for his family’s heirloom. Thirty seconds after he had entered the room, Arthur’s chamber looked like a battlefield; but nothing could stop the Gentleman and the American smiled, content of this development. Indeed, his oldest family member had decided to openly admit his feelings towards the woman who had once hurt his foot. ‘She needs to teach me those moves,’ Alfred reminded himself and was excited to address her as his future sister-in-law, if Arthur would find that damn ring.

 

ᴥ

 

At first Sakura thought that her Greek friend wanted to privately meet with her in order to ask her to marry him. She did not need to muse about his offer – if he would ask her. The Japanese would decline it, even if it would leave her in an awkward position. Sakura needed to affirm her stance. She did not love the imagination of him kneeling in front of her and it hurt her that she had to reject him, but her heart had already spoken for her – another man possessed her heart. The black-haired female readied herself to utter formal words of apologies; that she did not welcome an engagement and that she did not harbour any amorous feelings for him;. But she would clarify that she appreciated his friendship, although this seems rather painful, considering that she would reject him.

“Mr Karpusi,” she whispered as she turned towards him; both sat on a bench in the garden, surrounded by rosebushes, primroses, poppies and iris. Although he had not asked the question, Sakura feared it would break their friendly bond.

As if the man was aware of her thoughts, he slowly smiled and responded, “Don’t worry, Miss, I do not intend to make an offer.”

The female blinked, uncertain and relieved of what he had said.

“I know that we have a lot in common and I enjoy your company,” he explained while his green eyes searched for hers, “You are a wonderful person and I appreciate your friendship . . . and that is why I seek for your advice.”

“M-my advice?”

“Indeed,” Heracles muttered with a sad voice and Sakura could only imagine that it was an important topic that was on his mind.

“And for what do you need my advice for?”

“It is a matter of heart.”

The Japanese nodded with a neutral expression; she did not know how to interpret his words. But she was extremely content that he was not trying to make her an offer.

His green eyes focussed on the ground and for the first time, Sakura witnessed his hesitation and insecurity as he tried explaining his worries to her.

“I-I,” the man was struggling with his words, something uncommon for him, but this time he was opening his heart and problems to someone he considered important. “I think Miss Adnan is engaged.”

He did not need to disclose his unsettlement any further; Sakura had noticed his genuine smile when he had told her of Mr Adnan’s sister while they were dancing at the Beilschmidt’s ball. His green eyes had sparkled of admiration when he had mentioned her and Sakura had been certain that he admired her, but now she knew that he loved her dearly – a fact he hid from everyone.

“I know that she does not love that man.”

Sakura laid her hand on his. “Is it certain that she is betrothed to him? Is she aware of your devotion for her?”

Heracles shook his head.

“You need to tell her. I know Mr Adnan does not entertain the idea of you being engaged to his sister, but if your heart is aching for her, then you have to confess to her.”

Sakura wore a small smile and her partner raised a brow as he observed her.

“And has Mr Kirkland confessed to you?”

The woman next to him froze as a shade of red appeared on her cheeks, “E-eh.”

“It is quite obvious that he harbours feelings for you,” Mr Karpusi smiled, “and by your reaction I assume he has?”

“N-not with words,” she explained before realising that her words left room for interpretation, “I-I mean not physical, I-I . . .”

The Greek man chuckled, “Don’t worry, Miss Honda, I did not misunderstand your words. I will take your advice to heart. I hope she won’t reject me.”

“I believe in you,” she answered and knew that he won’t be rejected by her. There needed to be a reason why Mr Adnan was always reacting in a protective manner towards his sister, whenever Mr Karpusi was near her or talking of her. Sakura could not explain it, but she knew that her Greek friend would succeed in his attempt of marrying the woman he loved.

 

“M-Miss Honda?”

The addressed woman and her Greek companion looked at the new voice that had joined their presence. It was none other than the landlord himself: Mr Kirkland. His eyes were widened as he fixed his stare on Sakura. The English man’s tone did not sound confident as he watched her and Mr Karpusi on the bench; her hand on his. From afar the image of both seemed extremely confidential which caused Arthur to helplessly watch them; his mind was filled with questions and panic was slowly taking over his body. Thoughts of her being engaged to Mr Karpusi were increasing his disappointment.

“M-Mr Kirkland,” Sakura acknowledged with a startled voice; she observed his body language and felt as if the scene from the ball would repeat itself. His eyes left hers as he – almost – glared at the Greek man whose face wore a gentle smile.

Before Heracles could explain himself – seeing that his English friend was extremely displeased by this occurrence – Arthur stepped forwards, his gaze once again fixed on Miss Honda.

“I . . . I never thought I would have to . . .”

He was stuck with his words; the intention of confessing his love to her gone. The surroundings were decreasing his confidence – especially the presence of Mr Karpusi. Arthur knew that Miss Honda liked him; the kiss they almost shared was evidence.

“You would never have to do what?” Sakura’s voice brought him back to reality, as she moved slowly towards him.

Arthur could already hear Alfred’s laugh in the background – the situation was too absurd. But he would not turn around and walk away. His stubbornness had almost ruined his chance of being with her once; he won’t let it happen again. After he had misinterpreted her words at the ball, he had been devastated – Arthur realised that he could not live with the thought of her being not with him or far away in China. These reminders were strengthening his confidence again – his purpose of why he was there in the garden with her and with a ring in his pocket.

“Declaring my love for you,” Arthur shortly answered, not seeing the proud grin on his cousin’s face who stood not far away from them. Heracles felt as if he was interrupting Arthur’s romantic confession and decided to stand up for the purpose of leaving them alone. Although this action was meant to be a friendly and respectful gesture, Arthur thought that Heracles would walk towards him to tell him that Miss Honda was no longer able to accept the English man’s offer. Arthur was certain that his Greek friend had already asked Miss Honda. It irritated him.

“This is rather rushed and bold, but I don’t care. I don’t want you to marry Mr Karpusi.”

Sakura blinked – just like her Greek companion. Both were now aware that Arthur was misunderstanding the circumstances of the situation.

“The reason is not that I see you as a possession, because you are not. You are a wonderful woman who deserves love and devotion. Every man would be happy to marry you,” he concluded before continuing, “But I would not only be happy but extremely fortunate to share the rest of my life with you. I could not bear the sight of you being with another one. And I was told that you would return to China and all I could not think of was how I would have to live any day without you. I would be broken-hearted; incomplete, if you were not by my side.”

After the words had left his lips, Arthur took the ring out of his pocket. He kneeled in front of her. “Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

With widened eyes and a blushing visage Sakura stared at him. She was clearly too speechless to respond immediately to his wonderful words.

“Y-yes,” she spoke. At first his face was surprised, before a grand smile adorned his face as he pulled her into a loving embrace. Their observers had already left the scene.

As he let her go, she caressed his cheeks.

“You know, Mr Karpusi did not ask me to marry him,” she admitted, seeing that he was looking at her with a dumfounded expression.

“Then he must be a bloody twit, but I am overjoyed that he did not,” Arthur mumbled, before apologising for using such language in front of her – even if she found it funny; she would grow familiar with his manner of using such informal expressions.

“My uncle must have been extremely delightful when you had asked him my hand in marriage,” Sakura said, not realising that this was not the case.

“E-Eh . . . , well he was not informed about my intention.”

The female looked into her fiancé’s eyes and started to laugh, “Don’t worry, he won’t oppose it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: Oh God the confession is so cliché :’D (And I was listening “my happy ending” by Avril Lavigne while writing it xD). Finally they are engaged :D at least one happy pairing in the story :3 Time to get the other two together :). This story will probably have 3-4 chapters before it is complete :) ]


	23. 23

Despite Arthur’s worries of asking Mr Yao for his Goddaughter’s hand in marriage, the Chinese man was extremely pleased. He could not have been happier to see his niece being married to the man she loved – and who had enough money to take care of her. A week after the private engagement, the pair had decided to officially declare their courtship to the English society – a step that was required. The couple was expecting gossip but did not relent in its declaration; Arthur was certain that the talking would cease when the members of society would met his fiancée. She was too adorable and gentle to receive any hate – although he knew that some would envy her. Nevertheless, both were overjoyed to have finally admitted their feelings to each other. They wanted to officially attend Mr Edelstein’s ball as an engaged couple; it was exactly a week after Arthur’s marriage proposal.

 

“Finally,” the French Baronet commented, as he was observing Miss Honda’s engagement ring, “We have been waiting for this for weeks.”

“Indeed, we had almost made a wager,” his sister added, before grinning innocently at Arthur. Even if she was wearing a mask, her facial expression was more than recognisable.

“Excuse me?” the English Gentleman hissed, a scowl adorning his face.

“Yes, your fiancée is so lovely that we were wondering why you had not asked her right away.”

“W-Well,” Arthur replied, not sure what to tell them. His face was turning red, causing his better half to lightly squeeze his hand to assure him of her support.

“We wanted to spend more time together before considering marriage,” she answered for him with such a sweet and gentle smile that the questioning party mentally decided to stop their jesting comments. They had always made fun of their English friend and now they knew that the woman on his side would protect him. The admiration for her was strong due to the fact that she could handle a moody Arthur. In addition to that she was skilled in martial arts, which was still a fascinating fact for the French siblings.

“I hope we will be invited for the wedding. I don’t want to miss it,” Francis slowly turned towards his Prussian friend, “Right, Gilbert?”

“Mh,” the addressed General mumbled, not focussed on his friend. Since he had entered his cousin’s masquerade ball, Gilbert was thinking about Elizabeta. She was accompanying her friends at the ball and was officially attending the ball as a guest of Mr Edelstein. The topic of his English friend’s engagement was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Of course Gilbert was content for his friends, but their happiness caused him to think too much about a certain beautiful brunette cook. How often he had dreamt of being happy with her – just like his friends.

“I need a glass of refreshment,” he suddenly declared, moving across the great ball room, avoiding running into other dancing couples. The man had observed his beloved Elizabeta from the other side of the room and had decided to finally talk to her. For a week, he had not been able to catch a glimpse of her. And now that he finally had the opportunity, she was talking to his Austrian cousin and enjoying his company instead of glancing at Gilbert. Elizabeta looked absolutely stunning in her dress; her face was partly hidden by a mask, but Gilbert could still see her beautiful green eyes. His heart skipped a beat as he noticed the hair accessory she was wearing – it was the one he had given her.

The sight of her next to his cousin was not only angering him; Gilbert’s heart was not able to endure this any longer. He was approaching them, as Mr Karpusi joined them near the buffet.

 

Elizabeta was having a nice conversation with Mr Roderich and his Greek friend as she heard someone clearing his throat. And it was certainly not an ordinary somebody; the Hungarian was aware of the Prussian presence behind her. Since that incident where he had taken her basket in order to save her from being found out by Mr Edelstein, she had avoided him. Not because she hated the oldest Mr Beilschmidt, but thinking of him caused her nerves to tense, her heart to accelerate and her hands to produce more sweat than they needed to. Elizabeta herself questioned her reaction – one month ago she hated the man, now she was somehow intrigued by him. He had changed, showing more manners towards her – she was still very thankful for the gift he had given her, a family heirloom she was forced to sell for the sake of surviving. The white-haired man had somehow succeeded in receiving a small spot in her heart, and being the strong woman, Elizabeta was denying that fact with every stance.

“Oh dear Lord, no,” she uttered loudly, lost in her thoughts and not noticing how the voice of her expression sounded.

“Miss Héderváry is voicing my own thoughts,” Mr Edelstein announced as his eyes fell on his cousin, “I did not expect you.”

“Well, I am here, cousin,” Gilbert spoke, his voice a mix of annoyance and disappointment. His arrogant smirk was barely hiding his current mood.

The Hungarian froze, “O-oh no, I did not mean to –”

“It’s all right, Miss Héderváry,” Roderich approved, interrupting her speech – something she hated greatly. As she quickly glanced at Gilbert, she noticed his slightly hurt look in his eyes as he stared down at her, before diverting his attention to his family member again. Elizabeta knew that her former expression had somehow offended him.

“I want to talk to Miss Héderváry . . . in private,” Gilbert disclosed to his cousin. The commanding tone in his voice suggested that Roderich could not deny his wish. Elizabeta was rather surprised and nervous about this situation, but had no choice as Gilbert took her away from his Austrian cousin.

Unfortunately, the room was full of people, leaving Gilbert not enough space and choice but to stay a few metres away from Roderich and his Greek companion. The white-haired man did not know why he had softly pulled her to the side. His instinct – or rather the jealousy – had somehow forced him to create a distance between Elizabeta and the Austrian.

“Uh . . . What did you want to tell me?” she suddenly asked, eyeing on him.

“W-Well,” was all he said, before he lost sense of reality – he was staring in her eyes and felt as if he had lost his grip. “I – ”

The silence took over him as he sighted the ground again – his feelings were overwhelming him.

“You know, you have changed a lot.”

He lifted his head, looking at her with a confused face. “Changed?”

“Yes. You were quite arrogant and I could not stand you,” she admitted with a small smile, remembering their first encounter. Gilbert on the other hand felt a shiver running down his spine – her words did nothing for his ego.

“But you are much friendlier now, caring, even shy –”

“I-I am not shy,” Gilbert suddenly burst, trying to regain a pride demeanour. “I-I am confident!”

Elizabeta blinked, before laughing at his odd display of behaviour. His posing was too amusing for her, as he put his hand on his hip while brushing a small strain of hair off his face. Elizabeta never imagined that he would do such an action in a filled ballroom, only to convince her of his confident side. Unbeknownst to her, he did have the urge to impress her and to justify himself whenever she was near him.

People around them stared at the speaking couple with flabbergasted expressions. But Gilbert could not care less about them, all he thought important was the brunette in front of him who was finally smiling because of him. Even if it was a small laugh, Gilbert’s stomach was filled with butterflies, his face matching her grinning visage. He decided that if she would laugh because he was showing her stupid pose, then he would gladly repeat it.

 

 

Roderich’s raised eyebrow was a sign that the man was displeased. He and Heracles’ attention was focussed on the laughing pair. Although he adored Elizabeta’s smile, he did not like her behaviour she was showing – laughing openly with Gilbert in a room full of members of society.

“She seems genuinely amused by your cousin.”

The Austrian quickly turned back to his Greek friend, “Indeed, but Gilbert is always jesting around and not serious enough for gaining the attention of such an elegant Lady.”

“Are you certain? You never know how love affects people.”

“Gilbert is smitten by her – which I understand. But she could never develop any romantic feelings for that fool,” Roderich boldly affirmed, suggesting the idea that he was more qualified to be her partner than his pale cousin.

“Well, frankly, I never thought that Mr Kirkland would fall in love either. And as you see, he did, even if it was difficult for him to accept that,” Heracles replied.

“Oh yes, and I thought you wanted to court Miss Honda. I heard that you wanted to make her an offer.”

Heracles shook his head, thinking that the gossiping society had created a false rumour – as always. Despite paying Miss Honda’s compliment, his heart belonged to a bold, talkative and petite woman whose brother would not be too pleased if he ever found out Heracles feelings towards her. Imagining Mr Adnan as his brother in law was not a nice notion, but his sister was worth the risk. After Sakura had told him of her engagement, he had been delighted; she was his friend after all. Elizabeta and he were the ones that were immediately informed by that glorious occurrence – Heracles knew of Elizabeta’s occupation but did not care about it, he would engage anybody in a conversation. And his admiration could always be won with a good meal. Unfortunately, he was not aware of the fact that his conversation partner had no idea of Elizabeta’s obligatory cooking activities.

“I never wanted to, she is a dear friend of mine and I am overjoyed that she is finally engaged to Mr Kirkland, although he too was convinced that I wanted to marry her,” the Greek explained before chuckling, “They belong together and I am glad that Mr Kirkland intends to wed her despite her rank. Just like you do.”

Roderich almost choked as he had just gulped down the content of his glass. “Excuse me!? What do you mean?” He coughed, not comprehending the allusion.

“Well you dally with the idea of courting Miss Héderváry.”

“I understood this part, but what did you mean with _despite her rank_?” Roderich questioned again before his hands started to shake – his mind now formed a suspicious thought that Heracles confirmed with his next words.

“She is a servant in Mr Kirkland’s household.”

“I beg your pardon!?” Roderich felt a cold shiver ran through his body – due to the shock and the anger that was taking over him.

“I-I thought you knew?”

“You are aware that I do not socialise with servants!?”

Heracles sighed, “Yes, but I thought you were making an exception with Miss Héderváry.”

The Austrian man was in a cold fury as he marched towards his cousin and Miss Héderváry who had pretended to be a woman of society.

 

 

“Miss Héderváry!”

Elizabeta was startled by the voice; it was the host of the ball that glared at her, ignoring his Prussian cousin next to her. The smile she was wearing seconds ago disappeared immediately.

“You lied to me,” he hissed and the Hungarian was at a loss for words.

“I have never thought I would let myself manipulate by a mere servant; and to think I was interested in you!”

With widened eyes – as realisation struck on her – Elizabeta tried to explain her situation, “I never wanted to –”

“You never wanted to do what!? You, a mere cook, wrapped me around your fingers! Unbelievable!”

Gilbert, feeling the urge to protect her, interjected immediately: his broad shoulders blocking Roderich’s sight from the brunette Hungarian as he stood in front of her. Even if she was capable of defending herself, Gilbert did not want her to be faced with such angry words.

While he was trying to block the bad atmosphere from reaching her, Elizabeta decided to leave the scene. Small tears were running down her face as she run towards the door – people around them were attentively listening to the drama.

“Were you informed of this?” Roderich suddenly addressed his cousin, after he had watched Elizabeta fleeing from the room.

“Yes,” Gilbert stated, a furious look adorning his face as he glared at his cousin. “I was aware of her occupation the moment I had met her. But why should I care? She is a marvellous person with a determined character.”

Despite the music in the background, Gilbert’s voice was loud enough for everyone to hear.

“To find someone with such a personality is a gift. I don’t know any woman from society who appears to be as wonderful as Miss Héderváry!” Gilbert almost shouted as he eyed the society Ladies in the room. “You are a fool if you think she is only a mere servant, because her soul is more worth and precious than your property.”

With these words, the Prussian sprinted outside in the hopes of finding Elizabeta as quickly as possible.

 

ᴥ

 

Elizabeta was clutching her stomach with her right hand as she paused outside. She had run towards the carriages and the footmen who were taking care of the resting horses. Overwhelmed by her feelings, she pulled her mask off her face and seated herself on the cold and wet ground. Even if she was wearing a beautiful and expensive gown, Elizabeta felt as if she belonged there: in the mud. Her spirit was broken – for such a long time she had acted as the strong and independent woman she was known for, but sometimes such persons needed a pause from the insults, attacks and compromise. Not only was she reminded of her escape, when she had no choice but to flee her country where her family was killed. This night, Mr Edelstein’s words had affected her greatly; the brunette had admired him, but after he had uttered his displeasure considering servants a week ago, she had felt uncomfortable in his presence. Now he had openly expressed his disgust in public – and called her a liar. Her sobbing was too loud for her to notice as footsteps neared her; only as she felt a warm coat embracing her figure, did she stop her emotional outburst. Elizabeta remained on the ground as she lifted her head.

“M-Mr Beilschmidt,” she acknowledged as her hand touched her face to hide the droplets that were escaping her eyes. “W-What are you doing here?”

The man sat himself next to her, taking her hand to remove it from her red face.

“Y-you will be soaked in dirt,” she hiccupped as he softly smiled.

“I am more worried about you than about my clothes.”

“B-But you are sitting in mud . . . You don’t belong her,” she whispered as she tried to unsuccessfully push his hands away from her, “I do belong here, next to the footmen . . . the servants . . . A ballroom was never meant to be entered by me.”

 

Gilbert could not believe the words that were leaving her mouth as he searched for her eyes. The devastated look she was wearing was unbearable for him to watch. His heart was aching by the sight of her devastation and her talking.

“I belong here,” he spoke, “I am going wherever you go. If you belong here outside, surrounded by mud, then I do belong here too I. If you think you belong in a glorious ball room, then I do too. I belong with you, wherever you are, because I cannot imagine being anywhere but next to you.”

Elizabeta was astonished by this statement as she continued listening to his heart-warming speech.

“You deserve so much better than that Austrian. His words were hurtful and I never wished for you to find out his true opinion. I wish I could have prevented it, so I would have to see you in that state. But I cannot undone it and you have to know that it breaks my heart to see you cry,” Gilbert confessed, letting his lips form these words without thinking too much about it. It was his heart that was speaking; not his rational thinking. His hands wandered from her face to her shoulders before he embraced her. He was content that she did not refuse his hug.

 

“I-I always thought y-you . . . w-well you did insult my food before knowing me a-and . . .”

Elizabeta felt his shaking body, as he was laughing. His warm body was comforting her and she wondered if he would not freeze without his coat.

“I wanted my German food and was ignorant of your delightful dishes,” he admitted, still chucking over her comment. “But I would have never met you, if you had not thrown food on me.”

Gilbert retreated from her form, holding her at arm’s length. “You impressed me in every way, Miss Héderváry.”

Her small hand lay on her cheek as she formed a generous smile; she had to admit that the Prussian knew how to use romantically phrases – even if his normal sentences could be misunderstood.

His smile was the answer of her positive reaction. “That’s the face I wanted to see. Such a stunning expression. More beautiful than those society ladies could ever be. You don’t need such persons who judge you for working in a kitchen. It is admirable what you do.”

“Thank you,” she expressed as she gazed into his honest red eyes. “Thank you for being here.”

“As I said before,” he said, “I will go wherever you go.”

He slowly leaned down – the rain, the Victorian rules and their surroundings completely forgotten. Gilbert paused shortly, to make sure that she did not refuse his move. “I love you Elizabeta.”

Surprisingly, Elizabeta was the one that closed the distance between them after he had confessed to her.

Even if it would rain all evening or if the entire assembly inside the mansion would be displeased by Gilbert’s departure, the Prussian did not care. His love lay in his arms, reciprocating his feelings. He was the happiest man in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: PruHun time ~ .Headcanon: Prussia can be extremely romantic when it comes to love (I have been inspired by German and Prussian poets to make such a statement :’D) . I wanted to point out that Austria is being displayed as a slight arrogant aristocrat here, for the sake of the story. He hates being lied to and that triggered his outburst. I was really motivated to post this today; and I doubt that I will write a lot for Saturday, because the UEFA European Championships will start on Friday :3. I am always supporting Germany and Belgium (my country did not qualify ;A;) but due to Hetalia I am kind of supporting everyone, but Germany and Belgium are #1 >:D because: I have been a Germany fan since I am but a mere child and because I am partly Belgium :D. It’s kind of weird to write about football when writing a Fanfic set in Victorian times xD]


	24. 24

Gilbert looked at the small black box and bouquet in both his hands as he was leaving the boutique in the town. It was the same shop in which he had bought Elizabeta’s precious accessory. He whistled as he proceeded his walking. It was a warm day and people were gladly presenting themselves outside. The Prussian man reflected on the night four weeks ago, when he had confessed his love to the woman he intended to marry. His eyes fell on the object in his hand again as he thought of his speech he would present Elizabeta if he would ask her to do him the honour of marrying him. Of course he would tell her that he would wait for her whenever she felt ready being engaged to him; after the ball, they had decided to secretly meet, far away from prying eyes. And from then on their love had blossomed in a way that Gilbert was certain that she would accept his offer. Before they could officially marry, he had to attend his English friend’s marriage. Arthur and his fiancée had put all their energy in their plans. It would be a beautiful day, the Prussian was certain of it and he would like to attend it with Elizabeta – who was invited as a guest, not a servant, due to her and Sakura’s friendship.

He smiled again as he recalled the moment he had met the woman of his life – angry and offended by his words. It was love at first sight and he was musing over the story he would tell his future children if they would ever ask how he and their Hungarian mother had met. She would probably tell them that Gilbert had been insufferable, causing her to throw food at him. But he was certain that they would take it as a good sign and mimic their mother’s _way of solving a conflict_. Elizabeta would be a good mother, he knew, but he did not want his ego to be depicted as weak in front of his children. He wanted to be an inspiring father – to fulfil his task in parenting. The white-haired General decided that he would tell his children that they had met at Arthur’s house – she having cooked a great meal for him. It was not untrue, because she had made him a meal after all. The children did not need to know further details of the rest of the evening.

Gilbert’s mind was occupied with those things, as his feet took him to the Kirkland mansion. Only as he stood in front of the main door, did he notice how fast his heart was beating, nervous from his next step that would probably change his life. After knocking on the door, he was brought to the drawing room, where he waited for the owner of the house to greet him.

 

It did not take Arthur too long to enter the room. During the last two weeks he had been completely in stress, having organised a wedding with his cousins, his fiancée and her God father. Even if it was an exhausting step, the blonde gentleman was excited to plan his marriage – with the woman he came to love the last few months. As his butler had told him that they had a visitor, Arthur had expected the presence of the man that was responsible for their flower arrangement. He was surprised to see his Prussian friend in his house – although it was not the first time he was sitting there alone with a bouquet in his hand. The man’s demeanour was nervous and Arthur knew immediately whom Gilbert intended to see.

“Miss Héderváry is in the kitchen, if you wish to speak with her.”

Gilbert’s blush was enough for Arthur to confirm his assumption.

“Well . . . I wanted to speak to you first,” Gilbert confessed as he stood up.

Arthur raised a brow, “Me?”

His Prussian friend nodded before continuing, “Well I had not properly congratulated you upon your engagement.”

Arthur smirked, shaking Gilbert’s hand as a sign of respect. “Thank you . . . And I think I may congratulate you as well.”

“E-eh . . . _Danke_ ,“ The Prussian thanked with a red face, hearing his friend’s chuckle.

“I remember the day when you voiced your intention of marrying her,” Arthur spoke with an amusing tone before remembering his own proposal. A dreamy expression adorned his face – it was clear that he was looking forward to be married to Miss Honda. His mouth formed a glorious smile and for the first time, Gilbert was witnessing the genuine happiness on his friend’s face.

“Look at us, admiring the ones we love,” Gilbert mentioned before he laughed, “What will become of us if our children would play together. My boy with –”

“I swear to God if you suggest that my daughter will even lay her eyes on your male child, I will punch you!” Arthur reprimanded, the warning gleam in his eyes were clearly piercing holes into Gilbert’s body.

 

Sakura had heard of Gilbert’s arrival just a few minutes ago, as she walked into the room. At first she was rather surprised by Arthur’s gruff tone but could not prevent herself from smiling as she became aware of the topic he was discussing with his friend: their future children. Of course her future husband would be protective of their kids – especially if they would have a daughter.

“Good morning Mr Beilschmidt,” she spoke softly, receiving the immediate attention of the room. While Gilbert greeted her back, Arthur was rather flustered – he knew she must have heard him.

“I did not know you were calling on us today,” she commented, after having eyed her future husband with a small smile. “Elizabeta is in the kitchen.”

Gilbert suspected that something along the lines as _I am going to ask Elizabeta to marry me_ was written on his forehead; otherwise he could not explain why everyone was aware of his planned proposal.

The three had a small conversation before Arthur decided to call for his butler who could lead Gilbert to Elizabeta.

 

“I am glad you have spoken to him. Even if he seems confident, he was rather nervous,” Sakura said after she was left alone with her fiancé.

“Yes, but I am certain she will say yes,” he announced, smiling down at her before kissing her forehead.

 

 

Elizabeta was preparing the meal for the evening; she was all alone as Gilbert was standing at the doorframe in the kitchen. He was observing how she cursed herself – insulting the piece of meat that was too stubborn to be cut in one move – and the way she used the back of her hand to push a strand off her face. The picture of her cooking with their future children invaded his mind before he decided to walk towards her.

She did not notice him, as he embraced her from behind. Elizabeta did not expect him and tensed as she felt his body against her back.

“Good morning,” he murmured into her hair, before she turned around in his embrace – facing him. The man had showed her a lot of affection in the latest of time.

“G-Good morning,” the brunette replied, flustered by his blunt – but rather lovely – approach. He too was blushing, but smiling happily at her.

“You are so adorable.”

“T-thank you,” she accepted his compliment, “you too.”

She was pointing at his face, which was reddened due to her comment, but he did not try to hide it – just like his great smile that was accelerating her heart. It was no secret that he was happy to be in her presence and his intentions of deepening their companionship would not be unwelcomed by her. Elizabeta was unaware that her wish would be granted that same day. The woman eyes the bouquet of flowers in his hands, something he always brought her whenever they met.

Despite Gilbert’s earlier thought of popping the question, the man had to admit that he was rather unconfident to ask her in that moment – he coursed himself, thinking that he was a victorious general who had served his country well. The Prussian was a pride man who would not be insecure whenever he would be faced with various dangerous situations – and Elizabeta with a pan in her hand had the potential to be considered hazardous, which of course had not occurred once. But the way she sometimes held the metallic object was frightening him enough; it reminded him of his soldiers who were determined to win a battle. Although some would fear the Hungarian; her fierce stance had be the reason why he had fallen for her in the first place. His favourite memory of her was the night they had met, even if he had been stained with food and attacked by the servant, he could not picture a more perfect occurrence to have met her. It was the challenging glint in her beautiful green eyes, and her courage to speak her mind that had caught his heart. No other person had ever approached him in the manner she did – and that was the very beginning of a wonderful companionship he had never dared to dream of. The love he would feel whenever he was looking at her.

The Prussian man was too lost in his lovely memories to notice that his thoughts were spoken out loud by his mouth. Only as he realised Elizabeta’s flushed cheeks and blinking eyes, did he question himself what had occurred.

“G-Gilbert . . . I-I don’t know what to say.”

With light shaking hands, the man presented her the box he had bought earlier ago and his pleading eyes were melting Elizabeta’s heart. “Please say yes.”

As he kneeled down, the Hungarian tackled him to the ground with a lovely laugh, tears glinting in her eyes. “Of course I will! Yes, yes,yes,” she repeated happily, not caring if he had not properly formed the question – his speech from before had been more important to her.

“I am so glad,” he whispered as his lips touched hers.

 

The Kirkland household would be in an uproar to hear about two upcoming weddings – they would need to help with the organisation – and the servants would celebrate the fact that one of their colleagues had successfully caught the heart of the Prussian they had not dared to speak against.

 

 

_Fin._

* * *

 

Translation

_Danke_ – Thank you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: I know this is rather a short chapter but I hope it was okay :O writing the last chapter is always a pain in the arse :’D. As always, Iggy is quite protective over his future children – especially his daughters when they will start considering a courtship. Somehow the main male characters where always thinking of their future children xD but I can think of Iggy and Prussia being great fathers :D (and being extremely excited of their new arrival).  
> I wanted to thank everyone who had read, favoured (kudos) and reviewed this fanfic :D It makes me extremely happy to see that people enjoyed it :) I know it’s a rather uncommon AU (most historical fanfics for Hetalia are during the Second World War and Post World War) but I had this idea and I was motivated to write it :).]


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